Manifesting Destiny
by Rain on Roses
Summary: The Trans-Metamoorian Railroad will be the countries greatest achievement, but will the cost of blood and bodies truly be worth it? When men are willing to pay anything to achieve their goals, even the strongest steel will bend. AU, Meridian meets 1860s Earth timeline.
1. The Manifest Destiny of Metamoore

"In less than three years, _my_ glorious railroad with span across the great nation of Metamoore reaching from the blackest depths of the Grey Woods, to the shining Miagana sea where our first terminal has already finished construction-"

It was a magnificent, fierce, speech; the man's harsh but _ever so_ sonorous voice bouncing off the gilded walls of Meridians capital, as fat senators and councilmen hung onto every dripping word. It was the future of their country after all, the great iron beast with its thick, black, breath that would unite the massive stretch of land from the ice locked capital to the edge of the cerulean ocean. It would be the greatest project that the country had ever dared to hope for, or try to complete.

Cornelia Escanor couldn't care less. She had no interest in her husband's _great_ undertaking, or his speech to equally boring men and women or the results that would follow. All she knew was that this _glorious railroad_ meant hassle and hardship for her. Even now, as she tried to keep a polite and lady-like face up, she could feel the tiny furrows appearing around her brows. Her mother's warnings about wrinkles echoed in her mind.

Seated directly across from her, her sister-in-law and best friend (coincidentally) hung on to her brother's words with a bated breath; her hand tightly grasping her latest suitors hand, the girl completely riveted. Elyon thought living on the frontier with the expansion of the rail would be a grand adventure, and begged her brother to indulge her whims and allow her to join them in the wilds. Dimwitted as Cornelia sometimes found the naive girl, she was thankful for the burst of optimism and full hearted loyalty that Elyon always provided; and most importantly any excuse to escape her husband to tend to his sister. The marriage of Cornelia and Phobos Escanor had been one of any number of marriages that took place among the noble and wealthy families of Meridian, one of necessity, profit, and convenience; but utterly without love. It certainly was not what the young girl had always imagined in her early childhood fantasies, though her husband _was_ handsome with cropped silver blonde hair and sharp green eyes; Phobos Escanor was without a doubt, the most cold and uncaring man she should ever have had the displeasure of meeting. He had spent their wedding night pouring over plans for his railroad, and penning letters to a childhood friend in Sevit; while Cornelia waited, afraid and alone, in their marriage bed. That had been the norm of their marriage ever since. Phobos had joined her perhaps once or twice in their conjugal duties but never with any love or even lust it seemed on her behalf. They would break their fast together with Elyon, and then Phobos would steal away to work on whatever project had taken him at the time while Cornelia and Elyon went about their days, shopping in the great plazas of meridian's marketplace, dining at the best restaurants, and idly watching handsome lords prance on their horses as a great wistfulness grasped at her heart. It was a most idealyc and wonderful, gilded prison.

Except now even her most favorable distractions would be taken from her and replaced with the vast loneliness of the meridian wilds, she would have no one for company save Elyon, and be forced to bear the brunt of her loveless marriage in a railcar a thousand miles from home. Saying nothing of the dangers that they would certainly face in the uncharted lands past the capital. Cornelia clung to the silken sleeve of her petticoat in horror; her brain conjuring up images of fearsome wild animals with huge, white, fangs dripping with blood, endless forests with branches so wide and leaves so thick they blotted out the very sun. Her nanny had told her stories of the great Wilds Beyond, and they _all_ ended with copious amounts of blood and no small lack of tragedy. And she had no galiant hero upon a white stallion to protect her, only Phobos on his, albeit very beautiful, but very docile white mare and his small derringer pistol that somehow she doubted he knew how to use.

"Oh Cornelia, isn't this exciting?" Elyon cried, as her brother finished his presentation with a flourish and the people hooted around them. Cornelia held her tongue but gave her friend a small nod in the affirmative even as her heart clutched desperately within her chest.

"Oh brother, that was simply wonderful!" Elyon thrilled as she lept to embrace her brother, her vast silk skirts billowing. Phobos reeled from the sudden display of affection but quickly regained himself to pat his sister gently upon her back.

"Why thank you darling sister," he drawled; and the unsettling twisting of her stomach appeared once more as it always did when she watched the siblings interact. Elyon was meant to have inherited the company from their parents, but it was her brother who truly desired it. Since Elyon was happiest being courted by young men and not planning railroad designs she had _let_ her brother run the company in her stead. She knew that this had spawned a deep resentment of the young woman from her brother, even though she herself was unaware of it. She cared more for her dear friend than her husband, and it always worried her, how...naive Elyon was when it came to the dealings of people; especially her brother. but no warning the young blonde could bestow upon her friend was ever heeded, and eventually for the sake of their friendship she had stop trying; but had never stopped watching her husband with a cautious eye.

Her husband, as she had liked to think, had the heart of a weasel but all the mannerisms of the noblest of men. He was tall, and sauve with green eyes that seemed to smile even when he wasn't; and in the end there was only thing that made the man smile, and that was money. Coin, paper, gold, land, stocks, Phobos had his hands on all of it, and was always looking to gain more; and he was very, very, good at getting people to give him more.

He gave his wife the briefest of glances as he snaked his arm around her waist, she resisting the urge to squirm, as she always did.

"Are you sure, darling sister, that you wish to join us? I would feel much better knowing you were here, _safe._ " Phobos asked Elyon, as Brian, her ginger-headed companion, helped her down the stairs out the conference room.

"Oh please stop trying to stop me from going brother! I have been looking forward to this for months!" Elyon cried, her pale, pink, lips caught in a pout. No one had ever asked Cornelia if she would like to stay in the safety of the capital, she mused. Though she would never abandon her sister in the depths of the wildness if she insisted on going, and certainly not with her brother.

"I would never deny your desires, darling sister, but I must _of course_ state my worries for you, mustn't I?" his words always strangely dragged out when speaking with his sister.

Elyon laughed, the sound high and bright and beautiful, and many a young gentlemen turned their heads after the sound. It even made the corners of Cornelia's lips start to turn into a small smile.

"I will be fine brother!" she stated, her pink silks perfect and clean and her high starched Leyrian collar still standing straight despite the heat. Cornelia was having trouble trying to picture the girlish young woman in pants, let alone roughing it in a railtown; and that was to say nothing of _herself_ in such a place.

Phobos laughed, the sound cold, even as his chest rumbled against hers.

"Very well then, I have a present prepared for you, incase you did insist upon joining us. Come, it is down at the station waiting for us. Our things have already been packed, my ladies." he informed them. The visit in the capital had merely been a detour before the train ride to Miagani terminal, the only part of the rail completed, and from there to the edge of civilization. Could you even get a good tea that far out in the wilds, she wondered blankly.

The group wandered down the white steps in the capital, Phobos and Brian discussing a contribution to the railroad coffers as Cornelia tried her hardest to ignore the conversation. Elyon bubbled with laughter, and with a whirl of pink silk and lilac petals kicked up the fallen bits of flowers from the huge trees lining the walkway. They smelled sweet, perhaps even too sweet as the first of the rot set upon them. Cornelia would miss them, she mused slowly.

The Capital Station was always busy, even before it had been used for its current purpose. Supposedly it had been a sight of a great battle against a dragon in the legendary times; before Meridian had lost its magic and the creatures that needed it to survive. Now, the Trans-Metamoorian hub station stood proudly in its centre, huffing black smoke and screaming whistles for departure. People milled about the depot buying tickets and waiting for loved ones to return. As of now, the train only went to the towns of Torus Filney on the northern border of the capital lands, and Longora, the large city on the edge of the Miagani Ocean, a popular destination for people from Sevit to enter Meridian. From there the railroad would span down the southern length of the country to the gold rich city of Cahaiz, and all the wealth within it would then be accessible to the capital city. But, beyond that as her husband had so eloquently put, the rail would serve to unite the recently war-torn country of Meridian back into one solid homeland.

In truth however her husband had little interest of resolving deep blood-bound conflict save lining his pockets; and Cornelia even less so, as long as there was gold to spend and time to spend away from her husband. Now however any hope of that seem dashed, where would a proper lady such as herself spend time on a rail town? Full of brigands and ruffians and dirty young men with no thought save conquest. A cold shiver tracked up the line of her spine and she held herself tightly as they neared the back of their train. Elyon dashed ahead of them eager to see her present, though Cornelia had some inkling of what awaited her. The back of the train was for steerage and horses. Certainly her horse, Lady, a beautiful grey mare dappled with black spots would already be loaded for the journey, along with Adira, Phobos' white mare. And Elyon had been begging for one of her own…

The wooden side of the cart slid open with the practiced ease at Phobos' command, and next to their own horses stood a beautiful, tall, palomino gelding with light straw-colored locks running down his mane as he pawed anxiously at the ground.

Elyon shrieked in delight, and uncaring of her beautiful silk, dress hopped into the straw laden cart to run a soft hand down his muzzle.

"Oh, he's beautiful!" she squealed, "Is he really mine?"

"Of course, dear sister. He's been trained by the finest horsemaster in the capital, and is ready for a delicate rider such as yourself. He will obey any and all commands without question and shall never throw you." Phobos said proudly. Cornelia found herself staring at the gorgeous animal before them. Phobos was fond of showering the both of them with lavish gifts which Elyon deemed as his way of making up for his personal _coldness_ with them at times. Cornelia knew however, it was just a way of making himself look better in public. Still, the horse _was_ a magnificent gift. Elyon fawned over the animal for quite a while, until Phobos gently ushered them to the front of the train to load for the final boarding, A matter which proved slightly more complicated once Elyon started saying her tearful goodbyes to her latest suitor. When they could hold onto each other's hands from the rail no longer; were they finally forced apart. Elyon buried her head into Cornelia's bosom, tears tickling her skin, even as she took a seat next to her own husband in their private car. Cornelia dutifully stroked the girls soft locks as she cried, through the girl had barely known the man a week.

The cabin was lavishly decorated to Phobos is personal taste, with rich satin curtains laced with gold trim and huge mahogany desks filled to the brim with paperwork. Even the seats they now sat upon where hand-embroidered with golden thread and filled with lush down feathers. Wooden slats separated the cart halfway and protected the area that would serve as their bedchamber for the duration of the trip, inside an equally rich bed sat and an iron clawfoot tub served as the final piece of finery away from their home. Behind their own cart sat Elyon's which was decorated equally as lavish as their own, although more in the girls own taste. And still beyond that was yet another fine cart but Cornelia was not sure who it was supposed to house.

After a few minutes Elyon's morse seemed to fade away and she pressed her face against glass pane separating them from the fast-moving outside world. Neither girl had ever left the capital before, though Cornelia found no curiosity within her, only a sick, cold, feeling settling in the bottom of her stomach, as she watched the great city turn from buildings into endless plains.

"Are you alright?" Phobos finally asked her, the first words he had spoken to her since his speech in the capital.

"Yes, I'm fine," She declared suddenly wishing herself as good a liar as her husband. Elyon was far too excited to notice her distress, and her husband didn't care. She felt horribly alone, and not for the first time in her two year marriage did she feel the overwhelming desire to weep.

* * *

 _Blood. Why was it always blood? He had seen enough blood for a lifetime, spilt enough blood for a lifetime and yet here again he was covered in it._

" _Father, please?!" he gasped. He held the limp body in his arms praying for some sign of life; even though the skin beneath him was already cold. Surely he had not survived the war to come home to this? No…_

That had been a month ago. Now, Caleb sat in a stagecoach, his head between his knees and his hands clutching his father's hat. There was nothing left, and the only sign of new hope was on the railroad; and so that was where he was going. His army issued 45. was strapped at his waist, and even now he could feel the heat off of it burning into him. A deep rage gnawed at him, clutching at the very beats of his heart and filling his veins with boiling lava. No, there was no hope for Caleb. Only vengeance, but vengeance didn't put coin in your pocket. He had spent his last savings trying to find his father's murderer, and now broke, his last dollar spent on the stagecoach to get him there, he was traveling south to seek new fortunes on the railroad.

The area he was traveling in had been torn apart by the war, even now buildings that could barely hold themselves up dotted the landscape, huge holes ripped open by cannons and gunfire and ash where fires had raged. He remembered the war all too well. Bodies piled high on both sides, too heavy, too many for the carts. Soon not even the ground could hold them all, and they had to resort to fire.

Caleb shook his head, he had to think past that. He must. The war wouldn't help his father, wouldn't help him. We won, he told himself, the same words that they had told him at his fort when he dragged the body of his partner from the battlefield, though the breath had already left him. We won…

The carriage came to a grinding halt that rattled the windows panes nearly out of their sockets. Caleb grabbed up his belongings, pushed his father's... _his..._ hat on top his head, and swaggered out of the stagecoach. Haven, the ever moving front line town of the railroad greeted him. Or perhaps the stench of Haven greeted him, would be the better term. The smell of manure, from many sources wafted up from the ground, and horse, and most noticeable the reek of unwashed humanity permeated the air. A nobler man would have turned his nose, but it was familiar to the Caleb; it reminded him of his fort, Ogden, in the southern mountains.

Haven was little more than a very large collection of tents of various sizes, and a few small wooden buildings made to tear apart and rebuild quickly. The paths were caked with thick mud with wooden planks laid across. It was working hours, so the town was empty save for the whores, barkeeps, and a few administrative personnel milling about the town.

Caleb approached a small dias where a dark haired man sat at a desk, furiously scribbling. He stood, silently at the edge of the desk looming over the small man who held up one finger to stay him.

"Name?" he finally asked, still not looking up from his papers.

Caleb cleared his throat, and pulled a sheet of his own paper from within his coat pocket. He set it before the man, who whipped it up and squinted at the writing, never once looking at Caleb himself.

"I, ah, got a letter from one of your, um, building men here recently; offering me a job as a walking boss. I'm Caleb Hansen, Captain in the 13th regiment of Metamoorian Army, sir."

"Ah, yes. Mister Tubbs told me to except you. Very well. He's inside the rail office. Go on in, no one else is here presently."

Caleb tipped his hat to the man and strode towards the rail office. It was the nicest of the small wooden constructions, with a fancy sign that read in bold letters, "Escanor Rail Company." Two women in bright, and scandalous clothing giggled coyly at him from a large tent, as he crossed the mud pits, but he merely nodded his head politely at them as well. This only seemed to cause the giggling to intensify. Maybe later…

Inside the office, a young man with bright ginger hair and wide framed glasses sat at a desk. His messy stack of papers sitting precarious close to the end of the desk and ink dripped down the front of the desk while the man chewed nervously at the end a pen. His white satin cravat was checkered with black spots that Caleb suspected were ink as well.

"Mister Tubbs?" Caleb asked, dropping his luggage loudly upon the wooden floor. Martin Tubbs let loose a high pitched squawk and jerked back from the desk, his papers flying up as if they were caught in a hurricane.

"No! No! No!" he wailed, trying to snatch them from the air. Caleb watched in mild amusement, as the man hurriedly murmured apologies to him before he knocked the ink upon the floor as well.

Caleb cleared his throat as Martin frantically searched the drawers of the desk for a rag.

"I'm Caleb Hansen, I uh, got your letter…" he trailed off, unsure the disorganized man would even remember. Martin's eyes widen, and he left his ink stained towel upon the ground to stare at him.

"Yes! Now I-" he trailed off, and started digging through his papers once more though with some sense of purpose this time. When he emerged from the stack he held up a single sheet below Caleb's nose. It had designs for what appeared to be a bridge upon it. A familiar bridge.

"I certainly hope that wasn't one of yours Mister Tubbs." he deadpanned. Martin laughed, an awful nausly sound that seemed to trail on forever.

"It was! One of best! Didn't stop you from taking it down in less than half an hour I heard. You must have studied building at some point in you life then?" he asked.

Caleb shook his head no, and Martin let out a surprised but highly enthused sound. Caleb found the man a bit to..erratic...for his tastes.

"Really? That's marvelous? You know I studied in the great halls of Carhaiz for years before they would let me build anything? Then once the war started I was basically just set loose! Oh I got to build roads, houses, forts, oh but I loved bridges most of all. My point? Ah, yes I had one, umm. Bridges, yes!"

He drove back into the pile, while Caleb stood wide-eyed, wondering perhaps if ought to turn around and leave again. Martin finally procured a huge map of Meridian marred with notations and scribbles focused in one area.

"For years traders have had to bypass the Hoogong Gorge, either attempting to cross in the lowers parts, miles away from the trade routes, mind you, and dangerous or avoiding the whole thing entirely to the west, and that puts them right in the path of robbers and brigands from the nomads, so that's not good either." he rambled on.

"Um, yes, ah, back to the point." he gestured to the gorge on the map with an ink stained hand. "Mister Escanor wants the bridge _over_ the gorge. Which of course has never been attempted. Now most men can't tell a girder from a spandrel, and I need someone with some experience to help me take plans into reality."

Caleb blinked and held back a laugh. "And you think a retired army captain has the vision you're looking for?"

"Yes! I mean, yes! Clearly you have some natural inclination for the finer points of architecture!" Martin fumbled.

"I'm good with gunpowder sir, not much else. Blowing up bridges don't mean I'm any good at putting em up."

Martin pouted, he had never seen a man pouted before, before his lips curled into some vain attempt at resolve.

"Regardless Captain Hansen, I, with full authority from Phobos. P. Escanor, am prepared to offer you the position of foreman of this railroad."

It was Caleb's turn to blink now.

"What?" he managed to spit out; words had never been his forte after all.

Martin looked slightly more determined by Caleb's unsureness.

"Yes, I've spoken with your previous supervisors and they all speak highly of you and your _vision_. Rest assured Captain Hansen this isn't some wellborn job where you sit in the office all day. You'll be right there working with and watching the men and making plans and people into one. That's something I trust you can both do well, and even enjoy?" he asked.

"Surely there is someone better qualified to run your construction than me?" he finally asked, taking the map from Tubb's hands to gaze at the route of the un-built rail.

"And I'm sure there was someone better than a young, southern crackpot to hire to plan out this rail, and yet here we are."

"And here we are," repeated Caleb. _Yes,_ he though, _here we are._

* * *

 _I do not understand why I cannot be at your side during this venture? I am one of your top investors after all…._

 _I'm not your wife, you can't just tell me where to stay and when to go and…_

 _I have as much at stake in this as you do…._

 _Please…?_

Thick clouds of richly scented smoke filled the cabin, nearly blocking the papers and their eloquently worded pleas from his view. Phobos Escanor groaned as he crumpled up each letter and flicked them into the fireplace across from his desk. Signing, he inhaled a deep drag from his cigar and pulled at his hair. He still wasn't used to the short length, through it had been that way for over two years now.

His wife was already sleeping in their bed, and his sister had made her way into her own cabin some hours ago. Now was the time to get real business done, he still had to transfer the funds from the logging stands into...where actually were they going again? Oh, yes to buy land on the other side of the Grey Woods to pay off…?

Phobos rubbed his temples. He had too much in too many places right now, his personal bank account only bluffered from emptiness by a monthly pay-off from an account in Sevit. But without his _diversification,_ he would not have the funds to even pay for his railroad; despite the government having fully funding the project.

It didn't matter, President Himerish was a fool; full of big, impossible ideas that he expected Phobos to make into reality in the noblest of ways. Dreams didn't just come to life! They were dirty, and hard, and only the strong could make them _come to life_.

Yes, Phobos Escanor would get everything he wanted, no matter how he had to get it, or how long it took him; he would see the world squirm in his grasp.

* * *

It occured to me that I have never written a story with the whole W.I.T.C.H gang before. I needed to fix that. So, I present to you WITCH in the wild west! Basically Meridian meets 1860s Earth, complete with guns, racism, sexism, death and all that fun stuff! Yeah… Anyway, Caleb, Cornelia, Irma, and Phobos will be taking center stage for the first part of this story through all the witch girls will be featured at some point. Some canon ships, and some not obviously, through more will be paired together as the story goes on. And by god, since I actually have this one planned out better than most, I hope I can actually finish this one. Thanks for reading! RoR out.


	2. Loose Morals

Irma had never seen such a beautiful sunset before. Bright pink and purple streaks stained the sky like colored glass in the cathedrals back home; and yet it was so...empty here. Even as a great deal of men milled around her, the huge mass of tents felt like a tiny speck in a vast ocean and her a lone little fish in the middle. That was fine though; she was a brightly colored and loud fish, and she was happiest that way. Clad in a bright red gown with silver trimmings and her auburn curls falling freely down her back, the eyes and desires of every man upon her, she was happy.

"Oh my god! Will she ever shut up?" her companion moaned. Irma felt a smirk tug at her lips as she whirled around to face her friend. Her and Miranda Lynins had hit it up instantly. Even when all the other girls seemed to be in competition for the nicest, cleanest, and handsomest john, her and Miranda were giggling in the background. To say the other girl was snarky was a understatement, but that was just how Irma liked her.

"Why no darling!" she chanted, mocking their madams drawl, which she could hear drifting out of the tent even now. Miranda groaned, and held her freckled head with her delicate hands. She was waif of a woman, short and thin but with a pretty face and enchanting green-blue eyes. She was everything Irma wasn't. Irma was full-bodied and boisterous, loud and proud; even now her drawing and exposed bosom captured the eye of many a man as they wandered over to the food tables.

Miranda stretched out her pale legs from under her silver dress idly, and leaned back on a well worn divan.

"We have a new foreman," she stated, sounding bored. Irma waggled her eyebrows, remembering the handsome young man who had strut through town earlier.

"Oh yes," she purred, feinting a sudden rush of heat and leaning dramatically against the pole of their tent. "I'm already picturing our marriage, I want tulips, not roses, make a note of that!"

Miranda ticked an imaginary list before crumpling it up and throwing it in the mud. "I should have married someone like that." she said, her eyes narrowed.

Irma laughed loudly. "Instead you decided to see the grand country of Meridian by whoring across it!"

Miranda brushed her off, looking slightly annoyed. "I told you, it's not such a...bad thing where I come from. It's a respected position!"

"Such a proper lady!" Irma teased while waving at a young men whose virginity she had taken the night before. The young lad flushed red while his companions clapped him on the back.

"It's like seeing a healer or something! Totally normal, no stigma involved."

"It must not be since you know fancy words like stigma."

Miranda laughed. Irma always wondered why people hated whores so much, the boys seemed to like her well enough.

"You have too many stigmas in this land." she commented. Irma's eyes darted over to the south side of the camp, where the galhots had set up their tents far away from any humans. _She_ had never minded the galhots, but the rest of her country men certainly seemed too. In centuries past it had been the shifters, but since the loss of magic and their subsequent loss of their powers of transformation, shapeshifters had been merely seen as a more beautiful aspect of humanity. In fact most people had even stopped calling them shifters, since they couldn't _shift_ anymore; the proper term was now _Sevitians._ Now the bone-headed and fancy colored-skinned galhots faced the brunt of humanities discriminatory tendencies.

A green skinned man had caught her attention over the past few days. Despite the constant prodding and ugly words hurled at him, he simply kept his head held high and ignored him. Unlike the other men who were constantly picking fights with the humans that had to be broken up by Raythor, their lawman. And she certainly hadn't missed the looks he would send her way when he thought she wasn't looking.

"You ever sleep with a galhot in Sevit?" she asked Miranda casually.

"No, galhots aren't too fond of home. We are loose people after all." she giggled, flashing her dress up past her thighs.

Sevit _was_ notorious for its dreadful stance on morals. People could walk around barely clothed by Meridianite standards, women could court other women, and men other men, and there was no formal religion. Humans and galhot alike looked down on the shifters that lived in Sevit for their morals, though those that converted to the Light were deemed as equals.

"Hey ladies," a gruff voice pushed into their conversation.

"Urg!" Miranda stood up, and pushed a finger into the man's broad chest. "I told you to get out of here Frost! We don't serve your sort here anymore, not after you tore Josie up!"

The mixed breed man crossed his arms, smirking as he towered over Miranda. Though the girl showed no fear, her shifter blood too hot for her own good.

"Come on now freckles, my golds as good as any."

"Master Raythor don't think so! Now get out of here or I'll go get him and he'll put your fat ass into place!" Frost's face suddenly turned ugly, and Irma felt a speck of fear in her stomach.

"Now you listen here you little slut-"

Miranda had had enough, and stamped her heeled shoe into Frost's foot. The large man recoiled and growled, and moved to grasp Miranda's pale neck but she leapt back and swatted at his hands. Though Sevitians lacked the fierce strength they once had centuries ago, Miranda could still hit harder than most men. Snarling at the women, Frost held his hand and wandered off to join his friends. Miranda and Irma shared a glance before they burst into laughter together.

Frost was one of many gents in this place she could not stand. He ran the logging crew that was always a mile ahead of the actual rail laying; and he was meaner than a hornets nest. He had a bad habit of leaving marks on the girls, and hurting them so bad they couldn't work. Their madame, Sondra didn't seem to care however, as long as she got her cut of the money. Raythor, the towns lawman had a soft spot for Miranda though, and when she had complained to him once, Frost had been promptly banned from their tent brothel. That hadn't stopped him from trying whenever Raythor wasn't looking though; and thanks to their uncaring boss a few girls still came out banged up from him.

She and Miranda had made it their mission to send Frost on their way whenever he came poking around. No man laid a hand on Miranda that she didn't want to, and Irma had made her own connections to keep her safe. She could see one now in fact. Matthew Olsen was handsome man with dark hair and kind blue eyes. Unfortunately he had little interest in the working ladies, save photographing them; with their clothes _on_ …

Yes, Mister Olsen was an _ever so noble_ photographer for the Meridian Times and was charged with chronicling the grand adventure of the Trans-Metamorian Railroad. He could be found whenever something exciting was happening, camera and notepad in hand during the working hours. At night though, the dapper gent could be found strumming his guitar by the fire to the amusement of all the young whores and even some of the higher ups wives. Yet, Mister Olsen "held them all in great respect" and kept his hands off; to Irma's great dismay.

"Miss Lair. Lady Lynins." he tipped his pristine white hat at them, while Irma gave him a terrible facsimile of a courtesy.

"What's your pleasure tonight, Mister Olsen?" Irma asked him in a low, breathy tone. Miranda huffed at her lechery from her ratty divan.

Ever the proper gentlemen, Matthew blushed at the offer and offered a polite decline.

"Hey!" Irma bemoaned. "Are we lovely ladies not good enough for you?"

Matt looked as abashed as a man could, as he fumbled for a reply. Miranda came to the poor man's recuse.

"Don't tease him, Irma. He's a nice boy." she told her stiffly; even as amusement flashed in her eyes. Mister Olsen looked as if he was suddenly regretting his visit.

"I," he cleared his throat loudly and continued, "actually came to ask you a question, Miss Irma."

Irma batted her eyelashes flirty, and leaned in closely, "A question? Oh, I do hope it involves you getting down on one knee? _Someone_ in this town needs to make an honest woman of me."

Miranda finally lost it, rich peals of laughter that seemed so out of place in such a dank town, filled the night air as the poor woman nearly fell off her seat.

"Ah. No, nothing of that sort. Sorry."

Matthew actually had the humor to laugh with the girls at this one, though the flush hadn't left his cheeks. Just as the young man was about to continue, a shrill, harsh voice lashed out of the tent, followed by another young woman.

"Irma, Miranda! Are you _harassing_ our dear reporter here? Don't you know he don't want no scum like you?"

Madame Sondra was beautiful woman with a horrible, thick, accent and attitude that would make larveks run for cover. She was also deeply interested in the young reporter, much to his disdain.

"No madam," he answered for them, as Miranda's face slid into a glare at her bosses back, and Irma stuck out her tongue. "I'll be on my way, I know it's business hours."

Tipping his hat again, Matthew Olsen strolled back to his usual seat by the fire, while Sondra pointed her finger at the women to get back to work. The two, annoyed but obedient, slid back into the tent. After all, Sondra was here by 'authority of Mister Escanor himself,' and pissing her off meant your time in Haven was done. Laura had already been kicked out for smarting off to her, and had been forced to _walk_ to the nearest town naked for it. Rumor said she hadn't made it that far before the Kahedrin got her. Josie had come to her crying after Frost had tore her up, and _demanded_ she do something. Sondra had _allowed_ Frost to buy her contract, and after a few nights of Frost's bed the girl had _mysteriously_ gone missing. Needless to say, all the girls were very much under her thumb after that.

Trying to ignore that fact Miranda turned to Irma and asked,

"What do you think he was going to ask you?"

"To marry him, obviously!"

Miranda could only groan in response.

* * *

It had taken three days to make it to the Miagani terminal, and yet another to make it to Haven. Cornelia had found the port city of Longora not at the romantic ocean-side town she was expecting, instead it was dirty and full of such rough looking people she and Elyon had refused to leave the cabin when Phobos had to attend to some business. He had returned with a weather-worn looking man with silver hair and blue tattoos on his face. Elyon had screamed in terror at the man, while Cornelia found herself reaching for Phobos' derringer.

Drake, who apparently had no last name, was to be their bodyguard during the families time in Haven. She quickly found out he was the sort of man who found himself irresistible to women, and had been sending sauve grins to both women on the trip to Haven. Elyon had reciprocated, Cornelia hadn't. She looked to her husband to put a stop to the outrage, but his nose was buried in papers and wasn't paying attention, and when he was, he didn't seem to care. It just wasn't fair, she mourned herself. She was the _perfect_ wife. Tall, fair-haired, well-figured; and her husband could barely spare her a second glance.

She had tried, tried everything to get him to desire her even a _little_. Even the most expensive lingerie would not turn his eye, nor her naked body, or voluptuous ballgowns and pearls; in fact the only thing he ever seemed to enjoy was stroking her golden hair with a far-away look in his eyes. He must have loved some other girl deeply before her with the same hair, she told herself; yet, another part of her told herself it simply reminded him of _real_ gold.

Still, as...repulsive as she found her new warden, at least _he_ found her as attractive as she knew she was. Once they arrived in Haven, she found he was not alone.

They had arrived in evening right as the workers were returning. They didn't dare try to speak to her with their boss present, but she could feel the eyes upon her. She made her way with Phobos and Elyon to the rail office, to meet with his engineers and new foreman that had been hired before they arrived. If _she_ ran this railroad they would not have hired such an important position without consulting _her_ first.

Haven was nothing more than sticks and mud. The stuff was _everywhere_ , she had been forced to hold her skirts up to nearly her knees as she walked to avoid it. The _office_ was little more than a wooden shack with a massive desk in the middle, and chalkboards on the walls. Martin Tubbs, chief engineer stood waiting at the door for them. He was a lanky, ugly man, Cornelia had thought since she had first met in the capital a year ago, and he hadn't changed. His voice grated on her ears, despite the fact he was a well mannered man.

"Mister and Misses Escanor, Miss Elyon. Welcome to Haven, please, ah excuse the mess. Oh! This is our new foreman, Captain Caleb Hansen-"

"Former Captain." the young man interrupted. He extended a filthy, dirt covered hand to her husband, who eyed it with thinly veiled disgust and gave him a curt nod instead. Caleb looked like he could be good-looking under all the layers of dirt and sweat caked on him. His eyes caught her before any of that though. She had always loved green eyes, and his were a far deeper color than her husbands, like the pine forest they had come through to get here. But they held a deep bitterness in them, she could see that. She wondered if her eyes looked like that to other people.

"Tell me, Mister Hansen how are you finding life on the rail?" Phobos said even as he turned away from the man to pick up some of Martin's latest designs. Caleb eyed her husband critically, seemingly unimpressed by his new boss.

"Very well, thank you." he replied harshly. His eyes landed on her then; his gazed raked over her as if she were nothing more than a juicy bit of meat to be gobbled up. She felt the hairs on her back raise up, but she wasn't sure it was from fear.

"And construction has been progressing as planned?" Phobos asked. Martin suddenly looked worried, his thumbs fidgeting with his buttons as he moved to speak. Caleb broke in before he could speak though.

"It will be." he promised. Phobos narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the other man, and then his face slid into a smirk.

"Good, I'm glad Martin hired the right man for the job. Tell me, have you had any problems with the Kahedrin?"

Caleb shook his head and said, "No. Miss Sondra sent one of her wayward whores out the other day and it seems they picked her off, but our construction efforts have met little resistance so far."

"Yes, well, that will change once we start trying to bridge over the gorge. The land past that, they still consider theirs. We destroy anyone of those savages who attempts to sabotage my railroad if we have any hopes of succeeding." Phobos said.

Cornelia had heard of the Kahedrin. They were marauders, nomadic brigands who had no concept of ownership save that the strongest takes what they want. Notorious thieves, rapers and savages; they were without a doubt the greatest threat to the railroad, and herself.

"Um, yes, we received a rather...unexpected visitor by trains the other day, sir." Martin started. Phobos quickly looked up, his face almost...panicky. Was he expecting someone he didn't want here? A creditor, perhaps? He owed enough people money...

"Who?" he asked sharply. Martin seemed taken aback by the harshness of his voice and quickly answered.

"A reporter from the Meridian Times, I gave him temporary quarters here, and I told him you must make the final approval on such a thing."

Phobos relaxed, even chuckling at himself for his panic. "That's fine. Yes, yes, good, free press!"

Cornelia wondered what sort of trouble he had gotten himself into now. He had borrowed money from a great many people over the years, but once his latest scheme worked out he always paid them back in full. Surely whatever money he obtained for this project would not need to be repaid already.

Elyon watched the exchanges happily, and she seemed quite taken with Mister Hansen already. Her soft blue eyes watching his every move, Caleb's gaze had avoided the younger girl so far, however. Cornelia caught him staring at _her_ every so often, and when she locked eyes with him, he matched her gaze, refusing to quickly look away. The audacity, she thought to herself.

"Tomorrow, I wish to see the front line," Phobos told Caleb. The other nodded his head, and Elyon perked up too.

"Can we see the lake tomorrow as well?" she asked. Phobos looked bothered by her childish antics for just a moment before the mask fell back into place.

"Of course, dear sister, Mister Hansen would you be so kind as to take my sister and wife to the nearby lake tomorrow afternoon? I imagine you can spare one day of work as a personal favor to me?" he asked. Cornelia immediately bristled, though she wasn't sure why. She wouldn't want her husband to simply abandon her to the wilds, or even worse, go with them; but she wasn't sure she wanted this Caleb to join them either.

Still, she didn't dare to disagree with her husband in front of the other men. He had never laid a hand to her, never had enough interest too, but to disrespect her husband would be to insult herself and her breeding as well. A proper lady would _never_ do such a thing.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please excuse us. I imagine my sister and wife are quite tired after such a long journey, and it is almost supper time. I shall see you in the morrow."

Cornelia didn't spare the men in the room a final glance as she turned on her heel and left. She could feel the eyes burning into her as she strolled out behind her husband.

Their dinner was roasted fowl and fingerlings potatoes, a favorite of hers, and yet she found no appetite within her. She already hated it here, it was dirty and empty, full of men who would happily wed and bed her in an instant, some who were even decent folk, and yet here she was; all alone besides Elyon of course; but how long would that last? Surely some good, honest, man would marry her soon enough, and her claim on Escanor Railroad would be gone, and she would never see her sister again. Then she would really be all alone…

When Phobos joined her in bed later, she found herself reaching out to him for the first time in her life. This place had done it to her, it must have.

"What was she like?" she asked, staring into the flickering candlelight.

Phobos sounded confused, his voice deep with exhaustion. "Who?"

"The woman before me." she told him flatly, not even sure why she was interested. Phobos snorted, and seemed contemplative for a time. Despite the topic, his face displayed no vulnerables.

"She...was nothing like you. Wild, intense, cunning."

Cornelia was certainly none of those things. She had escaped her manor once to pick wildflowers as a child, and been stung by a nest of ground bees, and she had hated the outdoors ever since. Oh, she liked to gaze out the windows of their estate often, but that was as _wild_ as she got.

"You must have loved her greatly." she said, still facing away from him. She couldn't bare to look at his face, to see what wistfulness she must have drawn up. Phobos merely sighed and told her.

"Not enough."

She didn't understand. "Why didn't you marry her?"

Phobos was silent for a long time; Cornelia was afraid he was angry at her when he finally said,

"I could not have ran the railroad and married them, I made my choice and now I live with it. As do you."

Her husband blew out the candle across from her, turned over and was silent the rest of the night. Cornelia stayed awake, visions of herself in Caleb's arms even though she tried to dispel them. It was strange, when the man reached out to her, she never flinched, no matter how dirty his hands were. They fit together perfectly. It wasn't the first time she imagined herself in the arms of another man, but it was the first time those arms belonged to a lowborn. Truly, she must be getting desperate.

* * *

Caleb's first day as foreman could not have gone worse. A flock of chickens had invaded his tent before dawn and he awoke to crowing and clucking at the edge of his bed roll. Kicking a particularly fine-feathered cock with an indignant squawk; he groaned and sat up, the stiff muscles in his back protesting.

He fumbled for his canteen, only to find the water had gone bad. He sat out the metallic tasting water, and settled for washing his face with it. The cool water did little to wash the sleep from him, or his melancholy.

He had not been planning on ascending to such a high position within the railroad. Such jobs required dedication, and most importantly time. Time he had been planning on spending on more _important_ matters. He nestled his leather hat over his wet curls, the hide still carried the distinct smell of pine needles, even as all the foul smells of Haven threatened to overtake the pleasant scent. Pine needles meant home, even here. Caleb didn't shrug those thoughts off, merely stored them in the back of his head to be undercovered later, when he could process them fully. That day would be a bloody, but oh, so satisfying one.

Until that day, however, it appeared he had a railroad to run and build. Caleb wasn't sure how he felt about that just yet. He had _blown_ _up_ a bridge connecting Carhaiz to the mainland during the war, _with_ half a barrel of gunpowder, might he add. He and his father had built stables for their horses many years ago, but he knew little to nothing about railroads, or even trains. In fact, as he thought about it, he didn't even know how a train ran. Still, he was willing to bet that none of laborers knew anymore than him; and he wasn't even a betting man.

When the dawn finally came, Caleb exited his tent with it the chickens following after his footsteps. They were scrawny things, and Caleb felt a prick of sympathy for them as they shadowed him. They would most likely end up as some part of a stew by the end of the night. He _really_ hated stew. He wasn't the only early riser in the town, in fact, most the workers were already milling about, hitting the bottle or strong coffee, and frying near racid slabs of bacon and eggs found under piles of straw.

When he arrived in the office, Martin had already gotten breakfast prepared for him from the 'office chef', a mediocre cook (who at least used fresh ingredients) that made food every meal for the engineers and surveyors. The office was lit with a billowing fire, that radiated warmth and cast off the chill of the morning. The smell of good food, and the sound of sizzling wafted in the back door, and a small spread of eggs, ham, sausage, and thick sweet breads was laid out against the back wall on a large table.

Caleb thankfully gobbled up a large portion of duck eggs and thick slices of spiced ham. Martin nibbled at some bread even while he mapped out plans on graph paper, littering it with crumbs as he went. He was joined by Eric Lyndon, his assistant. Eric wasn't an engineer by trade, instead he had been a man of the stars and skies; but it seemed he was just as happy mapping out paths on land as he was in the sky. Caleb found the road suspiciously curvy in the current flat lands, but the men had already mapped well past that, and currently were debating the best way to climb the mountains to the south and the Gray Woods even still beyond that. His own ancestral house was on the other side of the mountain himself, but both he and the train were still a long way from that. Martin had informed him however planning were they struck the mountains was critical, a mistake here and they miss the prime area by hundreds of miles. Caleb was more worried about the crossing the gorge and the land past it first. Kahedrin lived past the Hoogong gorge, and their little shanty town would be easy and good-looking pickings. And that was to say nothing of building the bridge itself, which was sure to be an undertaking.

The men were busy, barely looking up from their work, so he ate in silence. Something he didn't mind. He had nothing to contribute to their work at the moment. Thanking Martin for the food, he ambled out the front door where a small group of men had already gathered, the rails walking bosses. There was four of them in total, and none seemed to happy to see him, unsurprisingly. _He_ wouldn't have been too glad to see what they must see as 'upstart' here to command them. He removed his hat and planted against his chest, eyeing up the other men thoughtfully.

"I'm sure you've heard. I'm your foreman, Caleb Hansen. Any problems or concerns, I'm here to fix them. I'll be in charge of keeping order, but I don't expect my arrival will change your day-to-day much."

The men then introduced themselves and explained their current position. One was huge, mixed breed man with cropped white-blonde hair and an ugly face twisted into what appeared to be a permanent frown. He identified himself as the timber cut boss, Frost. Caleb already didn't like him, he was constantly puffing up his chest in an attempt to make himself look more intimidating; and flexing the muscles in his arms. There was no lumber to cut in this part of the venture so, he and his men had to travel far to find trees to cut for the cross beams. They had a nice collection so far, supplemented by what Mr. Escanor had bought from across the sea, so they had been lingering the rail helping as they saw fit.

The man in charge of laying the rails themselves was somewhat small man, who had more black hair than Caleb had thought a man could have. He had a wild, unruly mane, a long beard, and even puffy chest hair that poked out of his shirt. He spoke with a deep, strange accent Caleb was unable to place. He was mouthy, and eyed Caleb prudently with sharp yellow eyes. His name, Napoleon, was equally as strange as his looks. Still by all reports he handled his job well.

The iron layers, and those that drove the spikes were lead by Nigel Ashcroft, the youngest of the bosses, just slightly younger than himself. He was quiet man with soft eyes and voice, and scraggly dark red hair. The men respected him for lead-by-example philosophy rather than any intimidation or charisma. The former walking boss and his flunkies had been driven out of town after they bullied the workers and took cuts of their pay and the remaining men named Nigel as his replacement, and without a foreman or Mister Escanor yet in town to disagree, the decision had stuck.

Finally the cut crew boss was a older galhot, Aketon. The galhots had been stuck with the worst jobs in the business, breaking stones and leveling the path of the rail. It was back-breaking work that only the galhots did; and no other walking boss would allow galhots on his team. The war was still fresh, even this far North it seemed. Aketon was an unassuming man, who spoke little but nodded respectfully to all of Caleb's statements. Frost would shoot him nasty glares whenever he got the chance and the rest of the men ignored him.

After introduction were done, Caleb followed Napoleon and Nigel to forefront of the road where the daily workers had already started their job. Napoleon pulled out his Werian pistol and fired into the air to attract their attention. The shot was louder than most pistols due to the shorter barrel and it left Caleb's ears ringing. The men looked up at him, bored. Napoleon must have gotten their attention this way often. _What a waste of bullets_ , Caleb thought.

"Listen up boys! This here is our new boss man, Mister Hansen. You better listen to him like he's the Light come down to show you her most Holy Titties, ya hear?"

Chuckles and nods emanated up from the men, along with a few greetings; and Caleb tipped his hat to them. It was the most earnest greeting he knew, after all.

"What's the progress been so far?" he asked Nigel. The young man looked towards the horizon to endless flat land. Caleb looked as well, it wasn't the most beautiful land he had ever seen, that was for certain. The construction had tore up the plains, leaving deep, muddy, scars in the otherwise grassy fields.

"Not bad, maybe two miles a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less."

Napoleon growled, a deep rumbling sound that convinced Caleb right then that he wasn't truly a human. "It needs to be faster."

'Why?" asked Caleb. It seemed a decent enough pace. Napoleon laughed, his voice rough, while Nigel looked annoyed.

"Mister E don't get his extra government funding if we don't reach the gorge by Havestmere 1. That ain't no problem now, o course, but when the big man gets here, he ain't gonna be happy with no two miles a day. You best take note of that, you'll be the one pissed on about it."

There was always a catch wasn't there? Nothing was ever simple.

"Of course. It's not like we should take our time on such a grand venture." he joked. Seriously, he asked. "What will it take to get us there by there, then?"

Napoleon shrugged. "I ain't no numbers cruncher, ask them stiffs in the office tonight. But I know it ain't no two miles."

"Why haven't I heard of this before?" he asked.

Nigel answered this time, "It's not the engineer's concern when the trains gets there, it's ours. We've only been at this for two months, the men are still getting in the swing of things."

Napoleon snorted, "Two months is more than enough time to learn, they ain't got no fire. You yell at em, and they just trod along. Mr. E ain't gonna like that, and I don't either."

Caleb could care less if the owner got his extra funding or if Napoleon liked his men, but _was_ being paid to care. Besides leaders didn't simply disregard their workers complaints, even if he didn't agree with them.

"Alright, think of some suggestions both of you, short of hiring a new crew because that isn't going to happen."

Before either of the two men could speak, Frost pushed in behind them and added his own (unwanted) voice.

"It's the galhots fault. They don't work fast enough, they are holding the rest of the crews back."

Caleb gazed over to the cut crew, where many huge galhot men were toiling away, breaking massive rocks they undercovered as they tore open the plains. Caleb had as much love for galhots as any northerner, but even he could see they were working as fast, or faster than the other men. They had erected a bank and had created a huge pile of smaller boulders to be crushed into gravel later.

"Food that wasn't half rotten might help." Nigel murmured, "half my men have got the stomach flu already."

Napoleon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, its piss poor food." Caleb's eye twitched, and visions of tiny chickens danced in his mind's eye.

"Alright, I'll make sure fresh food is in on every weekly train drop, raising the animals here isn't good, they all look like shit. Maybe new cooks too. Think about it today and bring me some more ideas tomorrow."

The two men looked well-pleased, but it was short lived as Frost snarled and pushed his face into Caleb's. He held himself back from pushing the other man back, or slamming a fist into that jutting jaw. Something about this man irked him instantly.

"And what about the galhots?" he spat.

"Ain't you half a greenie yourself, boy?" asked Napoleon asked, and Frost turned a deep red, a muscle in his neck twisting violently.

"Listen here you slimy, backwater, cunt. I'm _no galhot_. I'm a half human and fairy folk, see me ears?!" he roared. Napoleon looked amused by the larger man, and merely continued prodding. Caleb doubted the other man would do anything physical with him there, and chuckled with Nigel. He had dealt with many a man like Frost in the army, men too puffed up on their own ego and muscles and no skill to back it up.

"You awful big to be a _fairy folk_ ; was your momma the whole fairy town?"

"That doesn't even make sense!"

Caleb and Nigel were in stitches regardless, even if Napoleon's jokes were lacking, the look on the Frost's face made up for it. The big man stormed off down into the cut, hoping to find some slacker to pound on instead off the other bosses.

"What a crashing bore." Nigel said. Napoleon finally laughed himself.

"A _what?"_ he howled. "Forgive Nigel here, I'm sure he's the king of some damn lost kingdom the way this one talks. Real proper, ya?"

"Even a gutter rat should learn to mingle with the fancy mice." Nigel said, shrugging. There was no resentment in his tone. Napoleon pushed the younger man, in a way that could only be interpreted as friendliness.

Caleb was trying to put his 'boss' face back into place, and return to his assessments, when a loud crack split through the air like thunder, a shout, and roar of hundreds of rocks crashing against each other. Caleb jerked his head towards the sound of the noise, only to witness several men jumping out of the way of a rock slide from the galhots stone bank. There was silence for a moment, as everyone turned to look at the commotion. Frost was dusting himself off at the foot of the pile, nearly crushed himself; but that wasn't what made Caleb's stomach sink and twist.

There, under the pile of stones was a bloody, green, hand.

* * *

POVs are out of order, as you can tell. Caleb's first day happens a few days before Cornelia arrives at Haven, and Irma's the day Caleb arrived. Thanks for reading, and a special thanks to Yellow, and Dark Cat for the reviews! They are always appreciated. RoR out.


	3. Gentlemen of Integrity

_Silence…_

 _In Caleb's life it seemed one thing ever broke the silence; shouting._

" _Father!"_

It had been the cut crew walking boss, who had been crushed under the rubble, and his young son who had pulled out his mangled body. Caleb could barely recognize the man after the fact, his face crushed and shards of white bones sticking out of bloody flesh. _Who had allowed them to stack the damn boulders so high, and unsteady?  
_

"What happened?" Caleb yelled through the dust, pushing aside many a galhot to stand by Frost and the dead man. The metallic scent of fresh blood and crushed organs floated up to his nose. His mind conjured up the smell of gunpowder alongside it, and the spark of the hammer lighting the fuse in his musket.

Frost looked flustered, dirt smeared on his face, his eyes wide. He seemed to have escaped the collapse entirely despite being so close.

"The galhot threw a rock on it and it fell. Too unsteady."

"Liar!"

Everyone turned then to look at the young man crouched by what was left of his father, cradling what was left of his head. He looked very much like him, but a slighter man. His eyes were filled with tears, the pain too strong for him to even attempt to stop them.

"You pushed him." he said, almost to quiet for Caleb to hear.

Frost looked incredulous, his ears almost pinned back against his head. "Pushed? I didn't push your stupid old man, the bumbling idiot did that all to himself!"

The galhots looked at each other, uneasy. They started to close ranks around their dead boss. Murmurs rose up from the huddle, surely Aketon, the best of them, would not have been so careless? Many had known him far beyond his work on the rails, when they worked in the deep mines of Carhaiz, if the low hanging ceilings and unstable walls hadn't got him then, how could a pile of rocks? Similarly, the humans and mixes were forming a wall with Frost. Though many of the men couldn't stand him, they couldn't stand the galhots far more.

Caleb saw these motions, and ran his fingers through his hair, knocking his hat off. This was the _last_ thing he needed right now. Stepping into the middle of the forming sides, knowing if he didn't, Aketon's blood wouldn't be the only one on the ground.

"Now that's enough!" he yelled, his arm working its way back to his pistol. "You!" he said, turning to the young man. "What's your name boy?"

The green skinned man shot him a look that made him thankful he had his gun. "Aldarn." he answered quietly, the venom easily distinguishable in his voice.

"Aldarn." Caleb began, as hateful whispers began to crawl up to the right of him, the humans getting restless, and the galhots trying to shrink back from their initial bravado. "Did you see Frost here, push your father?" he asked, Frost spat at the ground as he did.

Aldarn's heated gaze drifted over to Frost now, his fists so tight, Caleb could hear the knuckles popping as he flexed. "No," he spat, never looking away from the other man. "And I don't need to either. He did it."

Frost erupted then, as two man tried to hold him back. The mud kicking up around them and flicking into Caleb's face and clothes.

"You lying piece of pond scum! You and your dead daddy ain't worthy of being smeared under my boot into the horse shit. He got himself crushed, and he don't need no help from me to do it!"

"You're a lying tramp." the green skinned man, shouted back, finally standing up from his father's corpse to yell at Frost. The human's let Frost go then, and many looked tempted to go teach the galhot a lesson themselves. Before Frost could get to the other man, Caleb quickly pulled out his pistol, and aimed it right between the man's eyes. Frost halted, but glared up at his boss defiantly.

"That lying greenie over there is who you should be pointing that at, not me, Hansen. He's lying about me, and he ain't got no one to back him up."

It was true, no galhot was volunteering information, or even backing up Aldarn's claim verbally. They merely stood behind him, their eyes wary, watching the proceedings even though their minds had already been made up. Likewise, Caleb knew if he asked the humans a dozen of them would have seen Frost minding his own business, whether he had been or not.

"Get back to work." he told the humans, who begrudgingly followed his orders, only Frost remained where he was to give Caleb a final warning.

" You should hang that greeny for being so disrespectful." he told him, before rejoining his men.

"Get him out of here," he said, looking at what was left of the former walking boss. "And get the rocks cleaned up after, don't stack them like that again, you understand?"

The galhots quickly went to follow his orders, except for Aldarn.

" Are you not going to do anything about this _, sir?"_ he spat, still looking towards Frost.

"No, now either get your father out of here or get back to work." he ordered. The boy didn't move, and Caleb felt his hands start to flex tighter on the cold metal of his pistol. He then turned his gaze upon Caleb, his eyes were narrowed and devoid of any light.

"Yes, _sir._ "

He turned quickly turned, sparing neither anymore thought it seemed, and went to help carry with father back to town. It was only till they were out of sight on the horizon did Caleb loosen the grip on his gun. He wasn't sure he would have stopped the man if he attacked Frost. He could understand the need to do anything to stop the flow of blood from your loved ones; even if it meant spilling more.

The rest of the day seemed to pass without incident on the surface, but he could feel the tension growing ever more every time he cared to look. Frost was speaking in hushed tones among his men, throwing pointed glares at the galhots every so often. Caleb wished to break them up, but to do so would only be poking the fire more, and the sparks that shot out would be just as likely to burn him as the galhots.

Aside from Frost's naggings the workers all seemed fairly quiet after the mornings disaster, and Caleb for his part, mostly stood on a nearby hill watching the workers, trying to get a feel for a normal day at work. That was easier said than done, he thought, as he could feel a knot beginning to form in his too tight shoulders. But both the knots, the tension, the fighting, and him over it all was familiar. Caleb was at home in the thick, volatile air; he breathed it in as others enjoyed fresh mountain air. He had never been _good_ at anything till he joined the army. And while those he had gunned down still haunted his nightmares, he wasn't fool enough to not admit to himself the sheer, primal, joy that he felt when his life was in danger and he could taste blood in his mouth.

He supposed it was only natural that something as mundane as construction would turn into a proverbial battlefield at his presence. He suspected that it wouldn't be helping his wallet however, he needed resources now more than ever, and if worked came to a standstill within his first week, he wouldn't be back for the second week. It was a simple enough activity, thus far, the crew cut leveling the path of the track, and laying the gravel foundation from their rock piles ahead of the main group. Nigel and men laid the track in position, and the rail ties to support them, and staked them into place, securing them enough so the massive metal train could ride upon them.

Often, however, many a man would drag himself out of the mud, heaving furiously and loudly. Their mess was always bloody, and Caleb suspected something more than bad food at this point. Barely two months in and it seemed this grand undertaking was already plagued by disease, and in-fighting. They would truly need a firm hand.

When the sun was finally sliding past the horizon was it time to return to camp. The men slowly trod back to the camp, their muscles sore and pulled, stomachs empty, and covered in mud. That didn't stop a few of the men from entering the cathouse as soon as they came into town, Caleb noted with some amusement. As for himself, he headed in the same direction, but with a vastly different purpose in mind. A few of the woman called out to him, but he merely chuckled at their cries and sauntered off to a small table alongside the brothel-tent. Caleb hadn't slept with a woman in some time, and he wasn't in a hurry to change that with a prostitute. Sure, many of the girls were pretty enough, which he found odd considering their location, but he had a sneaking suspicion… The blood from earlier.

"Is your madame about?" he asked pretty woman, with ginger hair and a crooked smile. She looked mildly annoyed, but quickly regained her grin.

"Why yes. That would be _me._ Sandra Jenkins." she held her hand out for him to kiss, an old greeting, the huge, puffy, feather from her hat batting him in the face as did. Caleb moved to shake her hand instead. The corners of her lips snarled slightly at his refusal, but otherwise her face barely changed.

"What can I do for you, Mister Hansen? Our lovely new foreman? You have a preference perhaps? Blondes? Maybe _gingers_?" she batted her eyes at him, twisting her own tawny hair around her delicate fingers.

She was very pretty; Caleb wasn't blind after all...but her manner. She didn't seem like the most wholesome woman, even by a whores standard. Her grin too forced, the glint in her eyes, like a starving animal about to set upon a fat corpse. Normally he might find such a woman a worthy challenge, but her eyes spoke to him more of a vulture than a great starving cat.

"Have you had any problem with your girls being sick? Throwing up blood?" he asked, straight to the point. He had never been good at small talk; he had no one to learn it from, his father had been a man of little words and great actions.

Sondra looked offended, her sharp green eyes narrowed in disgust at his words.

"Are you accusing _me_ of selling dirty goods?" she spat, loud enough that some of the available ladies peaked their heads out to listen to her outburst. Caleb merely rolled his eyes at her antics.

"No. I was merely-"

"Any girl can't do her job around here or is too nasty enough you filthy slobs won't touch her, I send her on her way. Now, if we aren't good enough for you around here, they we can all pack up and _leave."_

Caleb had never felt the urge to hit a woman before now, not that he had been around many women before now either. Why so defensive?

He didn't get a chance to answer that, before Sondra turned on him swiftly and stormed back into her tent; the bright red canvas practically hitting him in the face as she pushed it out of her way. Caleb huffed, how was he supposed to solve problems if his attempts to do so created even more?

"She's not lying." offered a warm voice from behind him. A woman with the most full figure he had seem in quite some time and a small waif of a woman, stood at the edge of the tent. The heavier girl, with her thick, curly hair had spoken up, while the other watched him with a critical eye.

"No sickness?" he asked.

The pretty girl shrugged, the movement causing the shoulders of dress to fall.

"Nothing more than normal. None of us is heaving up blood, like you said."

Caleb was honestly surprised. What could possibly be affecting the men of the camp and not the women? They lived together and ate the same food, drank the same water…

Discouraged, he tipped his hats to the ladies, the brunette giving him some mockery of a courtesy as he left.

The office wasn't any particular help either. When he informed Martin of the deadline dilemma that Nigel had mentioned to him earlier, poor man seem to break down.

"What do you mean we're not making time!" he cried, his pale skin flustered with bright patches of red. Caleb was a little taken back by his sudden outburst, considering his usually timid and placid demeanor.

"Why has no one told me we weren't making time?" he asked, frantic.

Caleb had no answer to that question so he didn't give him one. He could hear people approaching from behind them, but he had assumed they were either Eric or one of Martin's other men. The look of sheer horror on Martin's face, told him otherwise.

"Mister and Misses Escanor, Miss Elyon. Welcome to Haven, please ah, excuse the mess-"

Caleb turned around quickly, his heart seizing in his chest. Could his first day have gone any worse? The last thing he wanted was to schmooze with the owner now, when he all the other problems weighing on his mind.

Phobos Escanor was a tall man, somewhat on the slight side, with brilliant platinum hair that barely reached his neckline. The way he grasped everything with his eyes, however, reminded Caleb of the whore from earlier, hungry, and with little regard to everyone else. He did not shake his hand when introduced, shying away from the mud still caked on his hands. Caleb had expected as much, but that did not stop the disgust from rising up within him. What kind of man refused to shake the hand of another? Even if it _was_ covered in dirt; that was his job wasn't it? Dredging through the mud and filth so that this man's a glorious railroad could be built; the least he could do was show a little respect. The army had made Caleb hate men like him, men who were content to sit back in their fancy chairs and let other _lesser_ men die and bleed in the dirt.

He asked Caleb how he was finding life so far, and with only one disastrous day under his belt, he was hesitant to answer, so he simply gave a polite 'very well thanks'.

He turned his gaze to the women accompanying Phobos, his sister was a small, slim woman with slightly darker hair than his own, done up in an elaborate braid. She had cheerful eyes and a bright smile, that reminded him of warm summerhood days spend out in the fields. Despite the sweeping curves that graced her body, she held a sweet innocence within her that made Caleb blush when he thought of her in a lewd manner.

His wife however... Caleb was forced to do a double-take at the sight of her. She was tall, nearly as tall as himself actually, but she carried herself with such a grace that her height seem not to matter. She had long straight golden locks of hair, and bright blue eyes. Caleb almost had to stop himself from laughing, it was like one of the maidens from the fairy tales had been dropped into the middle of hell. She met his wandering gaze fiercely, her eyesdark, he could tell she was trying to keep a detached expression upon her face, but the bitterness behind those crystal blue eyes was easy enough to see. He wondered idly, what the poor dear was doing out here in the first place.

He was distracted from his observations by Phobos, and his question of whether the railroad was on time. A shadow of fear crossed Martin's face as he moved to answer but Caleb quickly cut in. He assured the man that it soon would be; His boss looked alarmed for a moment, but quickly sank into a confident smirk at the sight of Caleb's bravado.

As Phobos and Martin addressed more mundane concerns of the railroad, Caleb found his eyes locked again with Cornelia's. The woman did not blush and hastily look away, but instead met his gaze as if daring him to stop; and of course he didn't. He wasn't really surprised of his ogling of her, what man wouldn't? However his fascination with her suddenly came to an abrupt halt, as he was roped into becoming their babysitter the next day. Caleb had never been one to put off problems to go daling around with tricks, no matter how pretty. But to refuse would to be to admit the gravity of the problem; and that was something Caleb also did not do.

Cornelia and her family left soon after they arrived, and Caleb's blood still hot from the encounter marched off, not bothering to speak to Martin, who looked a mess, as he did. He wandered past the cat house again, this time however, he stopped at the tent directly behind them that was selling buckets of hot water for bathing. He hadn't any money, but the woman behind the stand knew who he was and was happy enough to start a tab for him till their payroll came in.

Bucket in hand, he wandered back to his tent on the edge of Haven, away from most of the other men and shops. It was slightly more peaceful here, and less...odoriferous. His fort Ogden had always reeked too, so it was like he wasn't _used_ to the smell that came whenever a great many people gathered someone, but that didn't make him like it.

He didn't have a tub, so he simply stripped off his clothes and washed off best he could. He knew many people found the act of cleaning rather therapeutic, but it was just another chore to him. He didn't like reflecting upon himself when he was already vulnerable enough by his lack of clothes. There was nothing worse than getting caught with your pants down, he thought slackly.

* _Boom!*_

Caleb quickly doved for his pants while thinking how he had a very bad habit of jinxing himself. His pistol was still attached to his belt halter, and he quickly pulled on his boots as well. Running as fast as he could towards the sound of the gunshot on the main drag of Haven's tent town, scenes from this morning played through his head even as he vaulted over a downed stand in his way. Aldarn must have waited for Frost to come back to town and then…

However, as he pushed through the crowd that had already gathered that wasn't exactly the sight that he found. Frost was flat on his ass in the middle of the muddy thoroughfare, his face bloody and red, his split lips caught in a ugly snarl. Across from him, an equally as large galhot with bright blue skin was slowly getting up a huge bruise already forming on his jawline. And between them, wielding an old, black, stagecoach ten gauge, was an older man with dark, brown, leathery skin and long, slanted ears. He was significantly smaller than the two erstwhile combatants, but the smoking barrel of his gun had clearly had made up for it.

"What is going on here?!" Caleb shouted, marching his way to join the trio. The smaller man looked at him at him suspiciously, the double barrels lowering slightly in Caleb's direction.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice as rough as the skin upon him.

"Your new foreman! Now, what is going on here?" he asked again, annoyed. Most of the town was now out gawking at the spectacle, even the office men had poked their heads out.

" _I'm_ stopping the mess that seemed to spill over from _your_ crew," the other man told him sharply. He finally lowered his weapon completely, gazing dispassionately at the two bloody men as he did. He wore no badge, but Caleb guessed by his manner he must be some sort of peacekeeper for the town. He held his hand out, and the other man quickly shook it back.

"Raythor. Mister Escanor trusts me to keep the peace here. These two were in the middle of quite a bawl here." he explained. Frost spat some blood near his boots in a ugly protest, but Raythor barely seemed to notice or care. Caleb signed, rubbing his temples harshly. In a move that would have his workers talking for hours no doubt, he turned to the galhot first and demanded,

"What is going on here then?"

The galhot attempted to brush the mud from his clothes, he looked slightly abashed now with all the eyes upon him.

"I…" he started, but stopped as the crowd's murmers seemed to grow ever louder around them.

 _Why do we even fight wars if they don't fix anything after,?"_ he thought to himself, a band of tight pain beginning to form around his forehead.

"Alright! Next person who causes any trouble, on the job or in town will be fired! No questions asked! There's a thousand men eager to get a job on this railroad and either we are going to start appreciating that fact or you can back to where ever you came from!"

The horde grew silent for a moment, watching the scene. Caleb felt there was nothing more to be said at this point, and before he started fighting in the mud like his underlings, (he didn't always have the most self-control, after all) he angrily stalked off back to his tent. A few of the night ladies hooted loudly at him, and with a blush he realized he still didn't have a shirt on.

Trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks, and their noisy calls to him, he cast his eyes down, looking into the puddles in the road. A sharp glint reflected in a lonely pool caught his eye. Aldarn stood in the shadows, his eyes still red from crying, the metallic gleam of a knife clutched firmly in his grasp.

The two men locked eyes for a moment. The galhot looked down at the knife in his hands, and quickly backed into the shadows. Caleb let him.

He understood. When he finally laid his head down at night, he could still feel his father's blood slipping through his fingers. Remembered how cold he had been, the bruises on his neck… It didn't matter what else he tried to think about, nothing would stop the blood from flowing within his mind. If he truly believed Frost responsible for his own father's death, did he really have the high ground to stop him? He watched the shadow slink away, uncaring of the stinking feeling in his gut.

To say he was surprised to find Frost still alive in the mind was an understatement, but sure enough, he came wandering out of the tavern the alcohol and sleep slurring his speech. Caleb raised an eyebrow, but said nothing to the mumbling man. Napoleon was also making his way out of the tavern, apparently many of the heavier bottle hitters were permitted to sleep away their nights work in the tavern.

"Napoleon, come here a second." he said, gesturing for the man to join him as he made his way to the office. The other man didn't seem hungover, or sick in the least his gate easy and smooth. His hair however, stuck straight up in huge black tufts atop his head, and he was currently trying to get it to lay flat with thick hair oil.

"What is it?" he asked, kicking a nearby worker who was snoring loudly into the dirt. He awoke with a snort and a yelp, before his head careened with the ground again.

"The boss came in last night," he said, trying to keep the hint of displeasure of his voice. It didn't work however, and Napoleon laughed loudly at him.

"Not what you were expecting huh? Yeah, Mister E isn't like you boys down south with more honor than brains."

Caleb stopped for a second, a little curious.

"How has someone like you met the owner personally already?" he asked.

Napoleon's grin grew ever larger, Caleb could see rows of little pointy teeth in his mouth.

"I used to work for the Hale's. That's his wife's family; I tended to their business and kept their workers in line, and once they married Mister E offered me work on his business and well, here I am."

"What do the Hales do?" he asked, more than a little curious now.

"Well, they is 'old money' so they got most of their dollars by just sittin on em. But Mister Hale runs a couple a banks, and a shipyard or two," he shrugged, "you'd be surprised the money a smart man can make in the shipyards. Don't last long if you ain't careful though."

Ah. Smuggler. That...didn't surprise him, much anyway. He tried not to judge, he would have lost an arm if a smuggler hadn't lifted in some rare herbs for Fort Ogden during his time there.

"And...what are you hoping to do here?" he asked. It was good to know such things, even if he didn't necessary approve.

Napoleon just snorted. "Look around boy! What do you think I'm gonna lift from out here? Mud? Empty bottles. Nah, I got caught in the capital and would have been in deep if Mister E hadn't brought me out here. Just gives him something over me, if we don't get results. That pencil pusher in the office? He's a damn war criminal, believe it or not! Yah, Yah, I know." he said, as Caleb looked at him like his head at caught on fire.

"Built too good of killing machines for the wrong side. Those cannons at Gaatkun? Yeah…"

Caleb hadn't been at that particular battle, if he had been, he mostly likely would not be here now. The cannons Napoleon had spoke of, they had been banned after the war by the capital, deemed to dangerous even for combat. They shot huge green balls mixed with Therbite and some other material that had not been de-classified for fear of re-creating it. The balls exploded when they hit, and unleashed wicked green flames after that no water or dirt could stop. Had Carhaiz's army made more; the war would have ended very differently.

"Yup, I guess a few strings were pulled and now the boy's here making our bridges and maps. I bet the poor idiot didn't even know what he was making, seems the type."

Caleb agreed. The north obtained young men straight from the great halls to build their war machines too. They were either promised riches at the end of the war, or were threatened with active combat instead.

He, himself, joined the war under some delusion of grandeur; against his father's wishes. It seemed a noble quest to reunite the country. Caleb did enjoy his time in the army, the planning, the training; things of that nature but the true ugliness of war had certainly left it's own mark on him.

"Ah, right. Anyway, I need you to escort 'his highness' around the job site today. I've got some things to attend to here, and have been drafted into taking his women on some wild goose chase later."

Napoleon stopped dead in tracks, his eyes wide as saucers.

"You get to spend the day with Miss Cornelia? And Elyon? _And you're complaining?!"_

Caleb held out his hands defensively, a nervous laugh escaping him. "No, No. Not complaining."

Napoleon grumbled, but agreed to his request regardless. The two made their across the mobile town to the office. Haven was just waking up, a few men hobbeling out of the cathouse-tent, or their own rail issued tents. He spotted his chickens picking at some particularly hearty grass alongside the shabby office walls.

No-one was in the office this morning save Phobos and Martin. The owner's face was twisted in a dark fury and he was pointing a castigating finger at Martin who was backed into a corner.

" _You_ were supposed be past Griffnoix Lake _two weeks ago_! And yet, we have just now reached the Western edge! Tell me _why_ aren't we past it?!" Phobos' voice was one that didn't need to be loud to sound terrifying. Martin a man well past his childhood, had curled in on himself like a frightened boy.

Caleb felt that old fire in his belly. It had driven him to many stupid acts, running into a hail of bullet fire to save a man whose leg gushed blood and lead, leaping into a fire to save screaming children. He took a determined step between the two, his chest puffed, the line of his jaw tight.

He had half expected to Phobos to take a step back, many a greater man had done so under Caleb's gaze. But no, he merely gazed down at him like an unpleasant bug he crushed underfoot. Phobos didn't let the tension fester long however, before he turned his back on Martin like nothing transpired.

"Mr. Hansen, I trust that under your wise, and steady leadership that we will reach our goal in time."

Phobos seemed perfectly happy to leave with Napoleon then, nodding curtly and sharply at the two men left behind.

" Are you alright?" he asked Martin, scooping up several of the maps that have been pushed on the floor.

The other man seemed shaken, pulling nervously at his cavat.

"It's alright. Uh...thanks. I mean, you didn't have too...um, he's probably not going to like you much now…"

Caleb snorted, laying the maps down in the spot Martin had laid them yesterday.

"I'll live through the disappointment, somehow." Martin didn't laugh, but his face lightened up to a small degree.

"The men have a need for better food, how would I go about ordering that?" he questioned.

Martin glanced up at him, his eyes watery behind his glasses. Caleb was one of the few of his kind that had pity for cowards; not everyone could be brave, he knew.

"I...we are over-budget as it is...I don't think Mr. Escanor will allow that."

Caleb felt a sour taste at the tip of his tongue. Fine, he would come up with his own solution. He didn't need some puffed up pillow from the capital to run a group of men.

"I hope the rest of your day goes better, Mr. Tubbs." he told him, leaving the office in his signature saunter. He hadn't wanted this position, but now that he acquired it, there was no way he was going to let his men done; _any_ of them.

Drakon Steam down, Keenan's Iron down…

Phobos snarled in disgust, and tossed the telegram into the fire. He wasn't sure _why_ some of his most heavily invested stocks were plummeting, but they were. The prospect of the new rail should have bustered that side of the market greatly, but no. He had intended to pull out of Drakon and put the profits into both some foreign markets (he had good inside information, after all) and more importantly back into the coffers of his own railroad. He'd emptied them to purchase land on the other side of the gorge, where he intended the first Southern hub to be. As it stood he barely had enough money to reach the gorge, to say nothing of crossing it.

Still, if he hadn't done it the land would automatically belong to Meridian's government, giving them even greater control over his affairs as his reach extended southward. If he ever got that far. He was already riddled with problems, and not all of them money. His investors were breathing down his neck, and if they discovered the missing money…

He could hear his wife on the other side of the cabin, he wasn't sure what she was doing, but it was some bothersome, repetitive sound. His mood was by now foul, and even her slight noises were driving him over the edge. He shouldn't have brought her, and if he had left her home, perhaps his sister would have stayed as well.

They were both useless things who could offer no advice, or do anything with his current problems. They would only distracted him with their ditterings, and not even in a pleasing way. Yes, his wife was beautiful enough but what good did that do him? She had no sense, save what clothing would work its way into style and his sister was even worse; like a maiden chasing a butterfly off a cliff. Actually, that did sound like something his sister would do. Still, it would have looked... _odd_ for a man his age to leave his lovely wife behind for a period of a few years. He had enough treacherous rumors as it was.

And beyond all that...they were _nowhere_ near where they should have been for the time. If they didn't reach the gorge in time he would lose critical funding, not to mention the support of many a senator who had grown fat on his bribes. All this before the sun had peeked over the horizon.

When Cornelia finally entered the main part of the cabin, she looked...more worn than he had expected, dark shadows looming over her face. He wondered, nastily, what problems she could possibly be facing? Her buttons were too tight, perhaps? He must have disturbed her the night before; they rarely talked, and never about himself or his past. He was slightly ashamed of himself, actually for that. He wasn't prone to such...sentimentality. Still, sometimes he wondered, how different his life would have been if he stayed.

 _Certainly easier_ , he thought venomously, as yet another telegraph patched it's way through. He absolutely hated the noises they made, the high pitched beeping that could only be _more_ bad news at this point. He couldn't read them very well, he only knew so much of the code, but this one seemed to be little more than a recap of business still on going in the capital and elsewhere. He watched for suspicious signs, but it appeared his _problem_ was busy trying to forge a deal with Vyatimun Co. Introducing new steamers on their ships or something of the like, and buying plum farms? He wasn't sure he was understanding that bit. Still the former would be a timely process.

 _Good,_ he thought harshly. His wife was looking over at him, harsh. She hated the noise of the machines perhaps even more than he did. They never spoke in the morning, unless something was direly wrong. So, he was mildly surprised when he informed in, her voice flat,

"You look awful this morning."

He...wasn't sure how to reply to that. She had _never_ mouthed him before; although she could be quite spiteful to others certainly. He chose to ignore her, scooping up his papers and locking them in his safebox. He would have invest in with his personal money now, to regain any hopes of pulling a profit large enough to refill the rails coffers. That, of course, made him uneasy. Drakon and Keenan's were supposed to be as sure fire as stock came, basking in the glory of a new industrial enterprise. He could invest in Vyatimun, before the price (hopefully) skyrocketed, their fleets bluffed with new steamers in a bid to replace the old sails, but no guarantee that would actually happen. He could ask, he supposed, but that would be inviting trouble. Crossnic Enterprises was busy investing in textiles or something equally mundane. Their recently widowed owner and President lacked any grand vision, typical of women, he supposed, but she was fond of safe bets in her investments. Smaller rewards though.

"Phobos!"

His sister's deafening voice filled the cabin, he'd never grown used to her and her wailings despite her nearly being attached to him since his marriage. His parents entrusted the company to her, in their great foolishness; but his sister was at _least_ wise enough to know that it was in better hands with her brother. So he supplied her with idle enjoyments, and butterflies to chase off cliffs while he tended to _important_ matters. If they hadn't looked so similar he might have questioned whether they were related at all.

"Isn't it just wonderful here?" she asked dreamily, practically floating into the cabin.

That it _wasn't_ appeared to be one of the few things he and his wife agreed on, judging by the frown that crossed her face. Phobos didn't actually enjoy much of his homeland, whether it was the gleaming capital or these wastelands. His time he spent overseas during his lyceum years had ruined the little appreciation he'd had for his land to behind with. Meridian was a vast verdant land, but with little besides endless amount of grain, save the Grey Woods and the icefields to the far north. The only major city that been left untouched by the war was the capital, and everyone there hung so tightly to their traditions it near suffocated them.

Still, if he wanted to make a name for himself, _his own name_ , Meridian was the place to do it. Even if it meant dealing with that all the...problems on this side of the country.

"Aren't you excited to go see the lake, Cornelia?"

"No." she answered bluntly, but his poor sister seemed to find his wife's abject misery amusing and merely let out peals of bright laughter. Perhaps they were related after all.

* * *

AN: And here's the third chapter! I planned on including the picnic scene in this one, but it would have gotten too large if I had. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading. RoR out.


	4. The End and Beginning

If Cornelia had to compile a list of things she hated most in life, the first point would have probably been mud; and Haven was _nothing_ but mud. It looked as if the last rain had fallen a few days ago, but the too-used paths were still slick with it. It clung to everything and everyone. Elyon didn't seem to mind, but then again, there was very little Elyon minded in the world. Cornelia could be as cynical and bitter about the world as she wanted, but it all seemed a little brighter with Elyon at her side.

Even now as they trod down the paths of Haven to the makeshift stables her sister was humming a playful tune, she couldn't place it exactly, but it seemed to make her step easier. She could use it this morning; she hadn't slept well. Visions of what seemed to be her own image had berated her lack of intelligence and beauty. Indeed, the pseudo-Cornelia was herself without any of her real physical flaws. The slight gathering of fat around her hips that she could never shake was gone and instead migrated to fill her petite bosom, her lips were perfectly even, and her hair lay flat and splendid, shining like brushed gold in the light.

She didn't even look real, she thought, reflecting back; like a vengeful goddess come to haunt her steps. Maybe that's what it would have taken to catch her husband's eye. Elyon seemed to notice her down mood, and asked her,

"What's wrong? I know it's kinda dirty here, but it's not so bad!" she gestured out past the camp to the grass plains, where their verdant green stalks swayed gracefully in the wind.

"Just tired." she told her.

Her and Elyon shared all their thoughts, unless it concerned her brother. For whatever reason, Elyon thought her brother could do no wrong. As far was Elyon was concerned, her and Phobos had a very private, but wholesome marriage. To tell her otherwise; _well._ It Elyon's only real fault, but any criticism of her brother would somehow wind up as a slight against herself. And honestly, Cornelia had always felt it a problem she should fix on her own, even if she was failing so far.

Lady, her horse, looked as unhappy to be here as she was. She had never left the Escanor estate before, where she and Cornelia would ride in the covered arena and on the very rare occasion along the path behind the manor to the dry creek bed that ran along the length of the property line. Beautiful blue lilies, whose petals shined and shimmered like crystals grew on the craggy edge of the ravine. She loved them, the only thing she had ever enjoyed going outside to see, but she could never bring herself to pick them and put them in a vase at home. Or uproot them and plant them in Phobos' garden. No...they had belonged out there and to take them away from their home would be _wrong_.

She had never really liked Phobos' garden. She didn't mind the roses, which had their own dedicated spot in the center, but the rest of the garden held more exotic fares that she didn't find as pretty. Dark red amaryllises that spiked at the ends like dripping blood, huge thorny vines that sprouted little pink flowers that seemed innocent enough but were highly toxic, and huge, black stalks of foxgloves that didn't grow upright but instead twisted in on themselves, forming strange twisted masses of flowers. Her lilies wouldn't have looked right within all that.

Lady was huffing in displeasure, she was used to having her own stall with a clean wooden floor. Here, was in a small coral with Adira and Spirit, Elyon's new palomino. She had spent the evening before brushing him carefully, and he shone like pale, rose gold in the light. Adira had herself tucked into a corner away from the others. Lady and Adira had never gotten along, constantly trying to one-up the other as mares tended to do. Lady was always trying to sneak a nip on Adira when she could, and now that they were together she could see the white mare had quite a few bite marks on her.

"Aw! Poor Addie!" Elyon cooed, rubbing Adira's roughed up nose.

"You're so mean." Cornelia told Lady, who merely stamped in the mud as an answer. Adira was good horse, even if her owner wasn't as enjoyable. She was a very mild animal, happy to lazily trod wherever directed. Lady could be like that too, when someone was on her, but was quite a handful when she didn't have a rider to watch out for.

Drake had already gotten the saddles on Lady and Spirit for their trip to the lake. Elyon had never rode Spirit before, but she had ridden Lady before and managed to climb up on him easily enough. He was a little fussy, but Elyon wasn't a demanding rider by any means and simply sat there, stroking him behind the ears.

"He's so nice!" Elyon told her, looking even happier than when she had first received him.

She hadn't tucked her skirts in right when she climbed up, and they were hiked up around her knees, but her riding boots were long enough it didn't matter. No one had taught her to ride side-saddle either, and besides the only one they had was on Lady. She looked like a child her father had propped up on her first horse, but the thought only made Cornelia smile.

She had just mounted Lady, when a voice from behind startled her the both of them.

"Good afternoon ladies,"

It was Caleb Hansen, come to escort them after all it seemed. It pained her to admit, that yes, he did look much better without the layers of dirt. He looked troubled, though. His eyebrows just ever so slightly furrowed in that if she hadn't been staring in such an unladylike manner she might not have noticed.

"Er. I didn't know we were riding there." he commented, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Don't you know how?" she asked, a little annoyed. Every man should know how to ride, she thought.

"Well, yeah." he said, an incredulous tone entering his voice. He looked over at Drake, who had mounted up Adira, bareback. Cornelia rolled her eyes at him, horses were meant to be ridden with saddles, she thought harshly. She imagined Phobos wouldn't be pleased if he came looking and she was gone, not that he ever rode her. And, _why_ , was he coming along if Caleb was already going with them?

"It's just, I don't have a horse." he said, a hint of pink creeping unto his cheeks.

"Oh no!" Elyon despaired. "It's quite far for a walk."

An idea floated into Cornelia's mind, but it wouldn't be right. It would look bad, improper, _silly_. She couldn't. And yet...

"You can ride Lady with me." she said, locking gazes with the man. He didn't look shocked, but instead, amused? It was her turn to blush now. She was imagining the look on her husband's face if she suggested that to him.

"Of course, my lady." he said, his tone light and teasing. He was making fun of her, behind that stupid grin, he must be. She felt her heart twist at the idea. She glanced over at Elyon to read her for any signs of displeasure but the girl seemed fine, giving Cornelia the smallest of smiles.

And just like that Caleb hoisted himself clumsily unto Lady, without the help of a saddle, _behind her._ She felt her eye twitch, this man would ride behind a woman? Wasn't he embarrassed, ashamed? He simply nestled into Lady, trying to find a steady spot to sit without an aid. Lady pinned her ears against her head at the added weight; attempting to roll her shoulders and force Caleb off. Lady was large enough to hold them both, she simply didn't want to.

"Stop that." she ordered, nudging her harshly. Lady stopped her rolling, but her ears remained pinned. Caleb settled in behind her, pressing up against her back. It was the closest she'd been to a man in quite some time. Her throat was closing up on itself, blocked by a tight, white heat.

 _Oh god, this is so wrong_ , she thought to herself, while simultaneously begrudging herself for not wearing something nicer. She had on a simple white and pink riding habit with big golden buttons and lace.

"Lady, huh?" asked, patting her rump even as the horse groaned and flicked her head in annoyance.

"This is Spirit! And that's Addie! But I guess her real name is Adira." Elyon chimed in. Adira didn't disturbed in the slightest to have a stranger on her and in fact was quite happily munching on some grass due to her lack of bridle.

"I had a horse going up, his name was Fred." Drake informed them.

"That's a terrible name for a horse!" Cornelia said, offended by the mere implication. Drake merely shrugged, and started guiding Adira out the stables and towards the lake. She prodded Lady into a slow trot, so Caleb wouldn't fall off.

Even if the journey's landscape had been more breathtaking than the simple wheatfields, Cornelia doubted she would have been able to pay attention to it. She could feel the heat from Caleb's body, even through her thick jacket. She could smell him; he wore no cologne or any other perfumed smell, but instead smelled like canvas and leather. She had never found that scent pleasant until now. Every time she breathed it in, her chest felt tight, tense enough she had trouble letting her breath back out. How foolish she was. There wasn't even anything special about this man. Haven must have had a hundred men like him, dirty and lowborn and, and…

"So, uh...where are you from?" Caleb asked, his voice sounding somewhat uneasy.

"I'm from the capital! Phobos and I were both born there!" Elyon supplied cheerfully, though Cornelia suspected _she_ hadn't actually been the one been asked.

"So I am. My family's estate is just outside of Meridian City. I've never left it, before now." she said. As much as she despised Haven, she found no great longing in her heart for the capital or the Escanor manor.

"And where are you from, sir?" she asked him.

He left out a dismissive sound and answered, "Oh, nowhere special. Around the Grey Woods."

"Ooo!" Elyon cried, nearly lurching off her horse in excitement. "I've heard the _best_ stories about the Grey Woods! Is it true they still have shapeshifters there that _can_ change and stalk the woods looking for people to devor?"

Even Drake turned back to look at Elyon after her outburst. Elyon looked abashed but still eager for her answer.

"Where did you even hear that?" Cornelia asked her, as Caleb's chest rumbled against her back as he laughed. It felt so good...Phobos never laughed, and if he did it wasn't around her.

"I don't know!" Elyon said. "Maybe I read it in a book?" she finished meekly.

"There's bears and shadow cats, and even some nagas in the deepest parts of the forest; but I don't think they ever go around trying on clothes." Caleb said.

Drake laughed at that jibe, and even she chuckled a little. So, he was funny too. Great…

At this point Cornelia wasn't even sure what to expect, but once again, the lake was not it. It was simply a large body of water in an otherwise grassy field. The water was still, and dirty looking, and just…

Boring, it was boring. Elyon seemed excited, however, because _of course she did_.

"Oh how pretty! I wish I had brought my sketchbook!" she lamented. Cornelia laughed in earnest then and reached into her saddle bag and pulled out the tattered, but well loved sketchbook.

"I'd knew you would forget it." she told her. It didn't really matter what the lake looked like, Elyon's huge grin was worth the trip. She slipped off Lady and handed the book to Elyon.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried, hugging the book to herself. Caleb was staring at her again, his eyebrows raised and a slick grin creeping across his face.

"Are you alright, Mr. Hansen?" she asked. Caleb just...kept staring at her, not looking away even when their eyes met. It was strange behavior in her circles, but that didn't stop her heart fluttering like he was noble who had just presented her his heart _and_ coin purse.

Finally, he slid off Lady as well, who seemed quite thrilled to be rid of him. Huffing at his back, Cornelia couldn't help but giggle again.

"I don't think Lady here likes me much." he said, pointing over his shoulder at her.

"No, she doesn't," she told him. At least one of them still had control over their senses, even if it was her _horse_ with more common sense at this point. It was so...quiet here, the only sound of note the lush meadow swaying in the wind. She kept her ears primed for the buzzing of ground bees too, however.

Elyon set out her big, red blanket upon the thick grass, and collapsed upon it to keep it from blowing away. They were on a small ridge still a far distance from the lake itself. There were no trees to tie up the horses, so Drake staked their leads in the ground, though if they really did get spooked, it wouldn't stop them from charging off. Elyon eyed Cornelia, her expression unreadable, even with all her years of experience. Suddenly her sister sat up, grasping her book and stated.

"I'm going to draw some lily pads," her usual enthusiasm damped somewhat. She looked back at Cornelia as she and Drake wandered closer to the lake, her eyes trying to give Cornelia some message she wasn't understanding.

And then she was alone, with Caleb. Thankfully, she wasn't one of those women whose words couldn't form in the presence of the opposite sex, indeed she was _nothing_ like that.

"What brings you out here, Mr. Hansen? Do let me guess, money?" she half-joked.

Caleb took off his filthy leather hat and set it aside, running his fingers through his thick brown hair. Cornelia felt the lump in her throat again.

"I guess. Actually, I'm not even sure what I'm getting paid." he shrugged.

"How can you not know what you're getting paid?" she asked, flabbergasted. That would have been most people's first question.

Caleb still seemed very nonchalant about the affair, laughing at her shock. It was pleasant sound, it was what laughter should sound like, rich and deep and honest. It made her feel...well, honestly she didn't have the words to describe it, but it was _good._

"I didn't ask. I might have, but when I came in I was barraged with problems, so it just slipped my mind. Guess I should ask later." he smiled.

Cornelia shook her head, not even believing him. " _How_ does that work?" she questioned.

"Hey, I'm more concerned about these men than money, unlike some people."

Cornelia felt the heat in stomach again, but lust wasn't the culprit this time. "You shouldn't insult ladies in their presence." she told him.

Caleb cocked his head at her, his brows furrowing slightly.

"I was thinking more of your husband, but if the shoe fits I guess."

She would have let that go, if he hadn't compared her to Phobos. She was many things, and she knew it; but she was _not_ like him. She stood up suddenly, indignant rage filling the empty spaces within her.

"I think I shall join Elyon, thank you Mr. Hansen."

"Hey, wait!"

Caleb grasped her hand quickly, halting her fleeing. She looked down at him, his face twisted somewhere between sorrow and amusement. It would have looked stupid on anyone else, certainly, but Caleb could pull it off.

"Sorry, not my best move." he said.

"I should say not." she spat back, though she didn't pull away.

Caleb just smiled up at her, that _stupid_ grin she already hated. It was pure, and sweet and not something she would have expected on the harsh faced man she had met yesterday. It must have been because of _her_. It was a self-centered, but rational thought, and yet it filled her with a deep happiness she hadn't felt in some time.

She found herself slowly lowering back onto the blanket. He still hadn't let go of her hand…

"So, ah…" Caleb was staring their hands, clasped together, and past that to her wedding ring. She gently tugged her hand free, the desire to toss the gold and diamonds away was not unfamiliar but never had it been so strong.

"I didn't mean to upset you. My mouth works faster than my brain sometimes." he joked.

"I'm fine." she told him. In truth, despite it all, she was better than she had been in ages. Many man would turn their eyes at her, but with Phobos as her husband no man dared to do more. The last man who had held her hand was Harold Hale, when she left the estate to move in with Phobos and Elyon. That was two years ago.

"So, you fought in the war, Captain Hansen?"

"Caleb. Yeah, I did." The glow seemed to face off his face now, a shadow replacing it.

"What was it like?" she asked. The war was a hazy dream in the capital, most of the local boys hadn't even bothered to go, and for the highborn it was merely a topic of conversation more than any real threat.

"It was war, I'm not sure I could explain to someone like…" Caleb faltered then, worried about offending her and perhaps not wanting to discuss it in the first place.

"You're family then? Is there a Misses Hansen lurking around here?" He wore no wedding ring, but she had to ask anyway.

"No, no wife. Parents are dead." The weight of the words should have crushed him, but his expression barely seemed to change. This was the hard man of last night, a man that war and death had created. He suddenly seemed very out of place in the green fields next to the woman in pink.

"What about you? Shouldn't a woman your age have ten kids running around by now?"

She hugged her knees to her chest like a stressed child. She didn't answer him; she didn't have one for herself either. And anyone she could give would make her look foolish.

"I guess money doesn't fix everything." he stated. She couldn't look at him, in the fear that perhaps he thought this was funny, or that she deserved it, or…

He lifted her head gently, his rough fingers scratching her chin as they gazed at each other. He didn't look amused, or harsh, his green eyes so soft she could feel herself falling into them, like every stupid romantic cliche she had ever longed for but had never gotten.

"I'm sorry."

So was she. She jerked her head away, desperately trying to regain her composure. She knew her place, had known it for a long time. The dreams of silly little girls being swept off their feet by good, handsome men were long dead. Cornelia Hale dealt in reality; no matter how harsh.

"Perhaps we should join Elyon, Mr. Hansen." she suggested coldly, her voice empty.

Caleb quickly jumped up to his feet, his hat forgotten at his side on the ground, offering his hand out to help her up. She counted the swaying grains before her, anything to distract her from the people around her. Caleb at her side, Elyon with her lips twisted ever just so as she traced the petals of the lilies unto her paper. It was everything that should have been, and everything that wasn't. It would have hurt her greatly, if she would had let it.

* * *

"No! No! No!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Irma leapt to feet, stretching her arms out in joy. The dirty dice on the floor read seven, and Alchemy's face read _mad._

"Pay up, darlin!" she trilled, even as her partner crossed her arms in disgust.

"Not fair!" she complained. Still, Alchemy was never one to rehash on a deal.

"Go then!" she spat, without any real venom.

Irma practically launched herself out of the tent then. Her little game got her shift covered, Sondra didn't care was in the tent as long as _someone_ was, and she was free for the night. She felt a little bad for Alchemy, but she _had_ accepted the bet.

After all, it was Demosa, her favorite feast-day. It was more of a peasant holiday, she supposed, but she _was_ a peasant. It consisted of dancing and drinking and eating, and other things snobby nobles looked down their noses at, even though _everyone_ enjoyed dancing. Honestly, it wasn't even that big of deal, and most people didn't celebrate it this far North, but Irma was always happy for an excuse to party.

The sun had just set, and she could smell the fires burning the little amount of wood that was left in camp as they made their way through the plains. What little excess food they had was busily being cooked, and a flock of chickens was noisily escaping camp and becoming dinner. Miranda was already waiting for her by the tavern; which had erected shabby walls since the day before, a sign they would not be moving camp for some time.

Miranda looked bored, as she often did when Irma forced her into 'Merdianite' things. Sevitians didn't believe in the Light and no real interest in celebrating her holidays. Still, all Irma ever had to do was give her the puppy eyes and Miranda would tag along. She longed to go to Miranda's country one day; it seemed like a much happier place than her own.

Irma Lair lived in the here and now however, and now, she and Miranda had some serious drinking to do. Even though Miranda didn't do much drinking herself, she could be counted on to not let Irma fall in a mud puddle as she hazed around or fall into the bed of unhandsome man.

"So, this is basically an excuse to eat and drink, which is something you do everyday, am I understanding this correctly?" her friend drawled, picking at a loose string on her cuff.

"Oh, lighten up. What do you people do for holidays across the sea anyway?" she asked, draping her arm across Miranda's freckled shoulders.

"Well, we don't feel need to pretend the Light is taking a nap or looking the other way, or whatever, when we feel like engaging in more carnal activities. Most of the holidays are from the old times, and the things they celebrate don't even exist anymore; the royal family, magic, dragons."

Irma found that incredibly sad. The Path of the Light taught that many years ago, when magic still flowed through the veins of Meridian, an otherworldly menace had threatened the whole world. 'The Light', the human queen of the time had sacrificed her heart to stop it; and when she had died all the magic of the world went with her. It was a pretty story, although no one knew for sure what had caused the arcane energies to disappear, but when they had, Meridian was forever changed. It had been a world of magic, reduced to the mundane, and they were all a little duller for it.

"So, you don't celebrate anything?" she asked. Miranda's eyes narrowed at her, the woman's second most common expression.

"I didn't say that. I just said they didn't make sense. What's the point in celebrating some dead thing anyway?"

Irma merely shook her head at her friend. Miranda could be deathly serious at times, actually Irma thought that might be her default setting and her snide humor was just a side effect of her cynical nature. Still, she was her favorite.

"Oh come on then." Irma said, leading Miranda into the tavern. It was busy, as it always was this time of day, with men and a few woman milling about spending their paychecks. Raythor was perched near the back of the bar, a glass of ale he'd barely slipped at his side. Which considering the attitude in town lately was probably a good thing. Demosa was a southern holiday after all, and accordingly the bar was filled with many galhots as well as humans. Irma didn't mind, she thought their brightly colored skin was pretty and their deep rumbling voices were so interesting to listen to. Not...many humans shared her opinion on that matter.

Not even Miranda, who thought galhots extreme devotion to their gods made them ignorant. She thought the same about Meridianites, but didn't voice it as often. Irma didn't _really_ believe in the Light, but it was a pretty story and she had liked going to church as a kid. Now, she found the rules too restrictive and pointless. She doubted some long dead god-queen cared about who she rolled around with, or what she wore, or who people loved; and if she did, Irma didn't want any part of her anyway.

"Good evening ladies, out on a traipse, I see."

Like Matt, Raythor always called them ladies but without the mockery behind it that other men often used. He was a good man, who reminded her of her father, all honor and justice and kind, gentle eyes behind a hard face. He had his shotgun with him, and a pistol, waiting in the dark for something to go wrong; because something was _always_ going wrong at Haven.

"Oh yes, I won a free shift from a dice game on of Miss Alchemy and now we are out 'prowling'." Irma said, winking at the older man.

Raythor merely rolled his eyes at her, while Miranda slid in the booth beside him. Raythor and Miranda were almost as good of friends as she and the girl were, but with benefits. And no, not the fun kind of benefits but the emotional hang ups that come with age and loss. The old lawman said Miranda reminded him of his daughter he'd lost long ago, and for her part Miranda was happy to accept any protections his affections would bring her in the town.

"Be careful ladies," he warned them. His eyes were grave as he did, watching the increasingly drunk men push each other around the bar. "Today's probably not the best night for you to be out and around."

"Raythor, we are beautiful women in a railtown, when is it ever safe for us to be out bumming around?" she questioned. He conceded her point with a sign, and curt nod, but looked displeased regardless. Miranda had taken over slipping his ale now, her face sour from the unpleasant taste.

"I appreciate you looking out for us but-" before she could continue, she heard the familiar strums of a guitar wafting through the noisy bar. Matt must have been outside playing, and where Matt and his guitar where, so was she.

"Oh, just go." Miranda drawled, having heard the music as well. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

Irma didn't need to be told, but she smiled and in a dramatic fashion gathered up the sheer ends of her red dress and gave the two a farewell curtsy. She started slipping her way through the crowd, towards the upbeat tune and the man behind it, and was just out the door when fate decided she didn't need to hear any music tonight.

She was sneaking past the large forms of Vathek and the handsome tattooed man who guarded the Escanor ladies, on the bar's porch when she spotted him. All alone, at the edge of the party, gazing out into the gathering moonlight. It was like, the pivotal moment in all her romance novels, when the woman found her true love in the strangest of places. How could she not go talk to him?

"Hey, it's Aldarn, right?" Everyone in the town had heard what had happened two days before, the fight between Vathek and Frost had seen to that.

He looked back slowly at her, like a near-drowned man trying to dislodge water from his head. His expression was blank, but it slowly slid into confusion as he looked up at her. He didn't answer her, barely acknowledged her save his stare. Most people would have felt off put by that, but not Irma. Instead she sat down across from him on the porch, and gave him what she hoped was her softest smile.

"Well, I'm having a terrible day; what about you?" she asked him. It was her favorite 'sad time' icebreaker. He blinked, his head crooked like a bewildered puppy.

"I...what?" he asked. The blank expression on his face had been replaced with confusion, which is what she was going for of course.

"I'm sorry about your father," she told him. She really was. Irma had left her family to go seek out her grand adventure, but she still thought about her papa everyday, even though she knew he wouldn't approve of her lifestyle. She knew he blamed Frost for his father's death, and whether that was true or not didn't matter to her; though she could see the bruises on Josie's neck in her mind and didn't doubt he was capable.

"You are?" He sounded very much like he would like to believe such a thing, but didn't dare to actually do so. His face then started to harden, the bony ridges that made up his brow line protruding farther out as they knit together.

"What does it matter to you?" he snapped, then look ashamed at himself for doing so. "I…"

"It's alright." Irma told him, forcing a grin on her face so he would feel better. He just kept staring at her like she had sprouted three heads and flaming hair.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asked. Irma was a little surprised by the question.

"Should...I not be talking to you? Was that an edict of the war I missed out on? Dang, I knew I should have paid that penny for the newspaper last year."

He looked like he wanted to laugh, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. She held out her hand to him,

"Irma Lair."

He smiled back at her finally, as he shook her hand. His hands were rough, but his touch was gentle, as if he were grasping a newborn kitten rather than her hand.

"I only asked because, most humans you know…"

Irma grew up in a small town just outside of Carhaiz. It had taken her near five months to get to the capital from there, it was just about southern as one could get on the mainland. When the war had started her father had just shook his head and bemoaned the 'festering greed' in the capital and praised the Light that her brother was still to young to fight. It was honestly a coincidence that the South was mostly galhots; and some fancy wheeling in the capital had twisted the story of expansionist greed to the 'evil' galhots and their desire not to conform to the country. Winning the war allowed them to paint the story of it.

"This is the part where you tell me I'm not like other girls." she quipped, ruffling her caramel locks for emphasis. The poor man looked like he was suffering from whiplash. He probably had only dealt with galhot women who flushed at a glance; or maybe no women at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm not really…"

She could practically see the dark shadow cloud his face. Compassion filled her, her heart twisting so fiercely her chest hurt. She knew only one good way to make people forget their problems. It was why she had money in her pocket after all.

She offered him her hand again.

"Come with me."

He blinked, ashamed. "No, I'm sorry, I don't want-I don't have any money."

"This isn't about money, come on. Let's get out of here."

"No, Miss-"

"Come on." she told him, a little more forcefully this time. She lifted him off the ground and he followed her in a daze. Irma had no qualms picking up strangers to her side; it was an important part of her job after all; and if it actually helped someone for once, well then it was a good thing. She made sure no one saw them go, she would never get another customer again if they knew she was sleeping with a galhot.

The crowd was too busy notice the two slipping into the shadows past the last rail car. All except Miranda, who stood on the porch, her arms crossed and lips pursed. With a sign and a near laugh, she wandered back to her tent alone, as she often had since meeting Irma many moons ago.

* * *

AN:

So, here we have the introduction of two of our main romances, which are parallels of the other. The traditional 'great buildup' with Cornelia and Caleb, meet, talk, kiss, etc. Whereas Irma and Aldarn start on the opposite foot first, and work backwards almost. I had a _really_ hard time with this chapter despite most of it being already written. Romance is not my strong suit, but it's a very important part of this story, so hopefully I will get better at it. I could use any constructive criticism on such matters if you have it. Next chapter will deal with more of the rails problems, and may take some time as I recently injured my hand at work (a friendly reminder to be careful sharpening knives out in the woods). Thanks for everyone's support and for taking the time to read my story. RoR out.


	5. The Bottom of the River

Caleb and Martin had charted out the problems and possible solutions to their numerous problems. There was an actual chart involved; to Caleb's amusement, whose 'charts' usually were usually nothing more than drawings in the dirt. The two sat in the office, well past closing time, to try and sort out the issues. Martin's nasally voice grated on Caleb's every last nerve, and filled in with a desire to claw his ears off. Still, the man was decent enough, despite that.

"Well, if no one in town is sick, it must be something out in the cut itself." Martin murmured, half to himself, as he traced the trains path down the chalkboard.

Caleb leaned back into the chair, thoughtful. His day spent with the Escanor women had done nothing but cloud his head; it was hard to return to the harsh realities of the world with visions of Cornelia's blue eyes glinting in his head. Suddenly the sky seemed lighter and brighter to him every time his thoughts graced the young woman's visage, even as thunder rumbled overhead.

"Maybe the soil?"

Caleb cocked his head, and signed.

"I don't think you can get sick from dirt, Mister Tubbs."

Martin didn't even look back at him, interposing a map upon the board, smearing half his drawings.

"Well, you can, but I'm not sure if that what's going on here. You have to dig pretty deep for that sort of thing. And with all this mud they'd probably track it back here, you know once while I was studying back in Carhaiz, well actually I think I was at the University of Rieslink at the time…"

Martin always went quiet when he was in deep thought, he'd done it four times in this meeting alone. He could be in mid sentence, and just stop. It was a peculiar habit, but given the intense irritation brought on by his voice, it was not an unwelcome one. Caleb merely rubbed his eyes, and stretched his legs, sore from the riding the day before. He had never been very fond of horseback riding, he didn't trust the animals, but he was willing to brave them again if it meant seeing a certain blonde again. Both men were silent for a moment, caught in their own musings.

"And the food?" he finally cut in.

Martin looked at him, confused for a moment. He slowly set down his map, unsure of what he was doing with it in regards to the food problem it seemed.

"You could ask Mr. Escanor to try to negotiate a contract with the local ranchers, but he seems pretty tight with his purse lately. It would be easier to hire a third party, who could handle everything. But…"

"That's probably even more expensive. What is he thinking? These men can't work without proper food. Who are we in contact with currently?" Caleb asked, annoyed.

Martin started pliffering through his desk, his thick glasses nearly falling off his face as he did. Caleb shook his head, amazed by the sheer volume of papers that Martin controlled, although, perhaps _controlled_ wasn't the correct word in regards to his management of his documents. The young man basically ran the railroad at this point, and though Caleb liked him, he thought that perhaps he might be better off simply charting their course. Caleb was perfectly happy _and good_ managing men in the cut, and Martin was an excellent engineer, but he wasn't the best at running the office, his head too far off in the clouds.

"Ah, Laurents Lungs. It's the cheapest one we could get, it seems."

Caleb snorted. "Sounds like it. Laurents Lungs?"

"Don't ask." Martin muttered.

Caleb didn't. "Alright, who else do you know? That's _good."_

"The best are the Linn's. Aaron, umm, that's our cook, used to work for them. They provide the meat and cooks for operations like this. They used to be solely contracted by Vyamtium for their ships but they have branched out some recently."

"How much?"

"Way more than we have."

Caleb tapped his fingers on the table while nibbling at the inside of his lip. The rails main safe that Phobos had brought in sat a few feet from him, almost taunting him. The money they needed was surely in there, if he could just bust it open. Martin must have noticed his gaze, and quipped in an unusually playful fashion.

"Good luck, not even his wife knows the combination to that. We needed in back at the capital and had to wait a whole day for him to show back up."

The word capital rang in Caleb's mind, even stronger than his visions of Cornelia's pink coat from this morning.

"Taxes!" Caleb cried, "We could 'tax' the paychecks to pay for the food. It wouldn't have to be much if we did everyone's. That could be the Linn's monthly payment. They won't like it, but I bet they like it better than what they got."

The men who worked on the rail made more than any laboring man in the city; it was the only way to get people out here and stay. They may not appreciate the tax, it was true; but they needed food and it seemed the only way they would get it.

Martin looked impressed with him, and shook his head in agreement. "As long as your the one who tells them, not me." he chuckled.

"Till we get across the gorge, then we pin Phobos against the wall to use his bonus to pay for it as long as we get there on time."

"Good luck with that." Martin muttered.

Caleb ignored that, having no doubt that if he was still here when they crossed the gorge he would enjoy doing nothing more. He'd seen too many men bleeding in the dust to ever have any love for men like Phobos; who cared more about their pocket than their own people.

"And the other problem?" he asked, picking back up Martin's chalk covered map.

"Gah, I don't know. Look around the cut tomorrow if the men aren't trying to string you up for cutting their checks."

Caleb chuckled. He hadn't expected to like the rail, but there was something about it. Working towards something bigger than himself, bigger than any of them. After the war, after his father… He wasn't sure he would ever be free of the blood on his hands, but this. This rail could fix things, even if that was the opposite of its purpose. If people could just _be_ with each other, learn from each other; maybe things really could change.

But none of that would come to fruition if they couldn't get across the gorge. They were twenty miles from the crossing point now; ten days till they were staring into the abyss. Ten days for Caleb to put a stop to the sickness, get them _real_ food, and deal with the slowly mounting tension from his workers. Simple.

Well, admittedly, it would have been easier without a certain woman clouding into his thoughts. Cornelia Hale, _Escanor_ (the thought made his blood boil) was _not_ what he had been expecting in a town like this, married to a man like _that_. Sure, she hid it well, under pretty pink dresses and lush doll like makeup, but he could see under it. Cornelia was kind spirit, more so than perhaps she would even like to admit. He didn't know how anyone else couldn't it see, as he had the moment he'd set eyes on her. The way she watched over her sister-in-law, the way she walked through grass, careful not to trod upon any tiny blooms; it was all there hiding just under her gorgeous surface. In another life she would have been everything he could have ever wanted in a wife.

He wasn't surprised by his fixation of her; Caleb didn't invest himself in something without truly investing _every_ bit of himself. His father had told him it was a valuable trait, but as he got older, he wasn't so sure. It had led to as much trouble as good, he found. Not...not that fact had ever stopped him.

"Alright then, I'll do that. I had better be off Mister Tubbs. Thanks."

Martin barely paid him any mind as he took his leave. He'd always heard the old sayings of people losing their unscrewed heads, but he'd never had anyone to apply it to until he met Martin. The man was trainwreck in charge of trains, something Caleb found highly amusing.

Haven was quiet now, almost eerily so, only fat drops of rains splatting into the almost dry mud, ruining the suns progress. No drunks wandered the street, and all the fires were long dead, only their glowing, sizzling embers left in their abandoned pits. The rail town always smelled like the back of a seedy bar to Caleb, like spilled alcohol and fresh blood, which was probably a pretty accurate depiction of the going ons in the town. The smell of blood was as familiar to him as the scent of fresh air was to some people.

And he could recognize the glint of a steel knife from miles away. It was like a replay of the night before; Aldarn stalking through the gaps of the tents, the gasp on the knife in his hand too tight, his knuckles white. The other man hadn't seen him this time, and Caleb was content to head the other way once more.

And yet his legs seemed to stop unwittingly. He signed; clearly the world, or fate, or some shit like that was trying to tell him something. Perhaps the Light thought enough blood had been spilled under his watch. He reached out his hand to the galhots shoulder, and tapped him gently. The other man nearly jumped out of his skin, the knife falling into the mud in a poor show of self-defense.

"What do you think you are doing?" Caleb asked, trying to stop himself from laughing as Aldarn fished frantically in the mud for his weapon.

"You!" he spat, pointing his newly found knife in Caleb's direction. "You had-"

"Listen here," Caleb started with him harshly, "if you intend to come at me with that little sticker you better know how to use it."

Aldarn stared at him with wide eyes, the knife shaking in his grasp though he refused to lower it. The rain beaded off his face, soaking through his thin clothes. Caleb could have disarmed the poor boy easily, but he stood his ground, hoping to reason with Aldarn.

"Do you know how?" he asked. "When you're fighting it's not so easy as stick them with the pointy end."

"He killed my father, and he's going to get away with it unless I do something." Aldarn's voice was as shaky as his grip.

Caleb's face fell, sure he had repeated those words in his own head many a time. Clearly the Light had quite the warped sense of humor. He would remember this when he finally met her at the final, bright light.

"You think you can take on Frost with a knife and a positive attitude? He'll crush you into paste before you get two stabs in. Unless you slit his throat in the night; that's how the smart ones do it. Just one deep cut across the neck, and out comes the blood and it doesn't stop till it's soaked through your clothes and-"

"That's enough!" he snapped, shaking the knife at Caleb. The soldier could offer him many an empty consultation that he himself did not believe, but in the end the man before him was not a killer, and Caleb didn't want him to be either. There were enough of that sort in the world.

"Let it go, you'll be better off for it. You start on that path, it ain't got no end. You'll walk it forever." Caleb told him, the irony of his words not lost on him; he knew the twists and turns of the way and the path ended for them only in the very thing they sought, death.

Aldarn glared at him, but he could see under the harshness of his gaze to the sorrow beneath it. He understood, as much as he wished he didn't. There was a tense silence for time, even though Aldarn had slowly sheathed his weapon. Caleb tried not to see himself in the watery eyes of the young man with only thoughts of blood in his mind, but he couldn't.

The galhot merely shook his head at Caleb, his shoulders tense and rigid, before turning back in the direction of his own camp. Whether he would return later, Caleb did not know or care to know. He'd done his part by whatever force had compelled him to stop. He chuckled darkly at the idea that perhaps he should heed his own words. Everyone knew that Caleb could never be counted on to follow any advice, not even his own.

The cut was a mess the next day; the mud thicker and deeper than it had been previously thanks to the nights rain. The men struggled to lay the wooden rail ties in the washed out gravel and thick sludge. The clouds still hung black in the sky and seemed even more rain was eminent. Caleb had no time to scout the land, or soil, or anywhere for the source of the sickness. He was knee deep in the mud as well, pushing the slippery ties into place and the iron a top it. He and Nigel were the on the front lies trying their best to lay the rails so they wouldn't get washed away from the rain if came any harder than it had before.

The men seemed in better spirits after his announcement, oddly enough. He _had_ empathized the fact it was only temporary and the boss would soon be picking up the tab. And he would, one way or another, Caleb thought to himself as he had said it. Of that he had no doubt. Martin had already started the process of contacting the Lins that morning, via telegraph to Longora and hopefully he would have good news for him once he returned after work. He could use some.

"We should be making five miles a day on flat prairie like this." Napoleon told them as they struggled to their first mile of the day, a few hours past midday.

Caleb nearly let the beam he was holding crush Nigel's fingers as he sprang up to confront the other walking boss.

"I'm sorry, do you have any suggestions?" he snapped. Napoleon barely flinched at his harsh tone, and merely twisted his lips in irritation.

"You're the foreman, you need to be out of the mud and dealing with the bigger problems."

"Like what? I thought making time was our biggest concern, you seem to think so after all."

The other man didn't budge, but instead gestured over the galhots. Something Caleb was already very tired of people doing.

"For one, they ain't got no walking boss, you need to pick one. Everything slows down without someone at the top."

Caleb groaned; he had been trying to avoid that matter. Half his men wanted a man from outside the crew to keep them 'in line' after the rock incident. Furthermore, he had no idea who to pick from inside the crew if choose to do so. It was a delicate situation with no easy or apparent answer.

"Fine," he snarled. There was no point delaying it any longer, he supposed. He shook as much the murk off his dark denim pants as he could, before pushing past Napoleon to make his way across the cut.

The galhots were away from the main of the crew, huddled in a group at the edge of the cut. They were on a drink break by the looks of it, through he couldn't see their water bucket. He could feel tiny drops of rain starting to bounce off his hat. It hardly mattered now; his clothes already cold, wet, and heavy.

He was almost upon them, their faces grim at his approach, when some distant light in the back of his mind lit up. Old memories stirred in his mind from a time outside a fortified city, so grand no army could ever topple her, and yet with an army outside desperate to get them to surrender. A tall man with dark purple skin was heaving their water from the edge of the nearby run off from the lake. They were a good five miles from the lake itself but the stream was always well fed. It was easier than lugging water from their tower back in town, they must have thought. Caleb could barely stop the laughter that was bubbling in his throat; how could they have been so stupid?

"You!" he gestured to the man carrying the water, "put that down. It's not safe."

"Wha?" he said, his thick accent stating he was clearly not well-versed in the Queen's tongue.

"The water," he said, lightly tugging the bucket out of the man's thick, calloused hands. "It's got the taint."

Aldarn hopped up from his circle of companions, Caleb hadn't even noticed him at first, Aldarn was much smaller than most of his fellows.

"From what?"

"I intend to find out." Caleb said, eying the path of the stream. He could see the twinkle of the water for a mile or so before it disappeared behind a lone patch of trees on the plains.

Aldarn looked down at his fellow workers, but they had all developed a sudden interest in plucking plants from the ground or tracing in the mud. Caleb gestured for Aldarn to follow him; if for no other reason than if he met trouble the galhots would at least come looking for _him._

Caleb had never liked silences; but never seemed to have the words to fill them. That however, had never stopped him from trying. He was nervous sort of talker, prone to chatting the ears off of half dead men as he carried them away from battle. Which in retrospect, probably wasn't helping his 'strong silent type' persona. So, he was a little surprised when Aldarn started speaking first.

"What do you think it is?" he asked, sounding like a much different person than he had in the alley the night before. His voice was lighter, younger, like it finally matched his actual age. Caleb felt a wave of envy before he quickly stamped it down. Whatever was left of his youth was long abandoned on a medical wagon in the South of Carhaiz providence.

"With any luck it's just a Filney deer that died too close to the stream," Caleb answered. Aldarn murmured something behind him about the state of his luck and where it could shove itself. Caleb agreed.

However, luck, as usual, was indeed _not_ on their side. They smelled it before they saw it, not very strong, but a potent odour such as _death_ tends to linger. As the men rounded the small grove of trees, they found what was left of them.

It wasn't unusual for families to try to make the trek across the great plains to either side of Meridian, and it wasn't unusual for them to never make it either. Indeed, it seemed the erstwhile family of three had met the Kahedrin upon their journey; and they hadn't made a favorable impression.

What was left of a large man was halfway rotting into the water, while the bloated corpse of his wife was caught further downstream by a toppled tree. Their son, Caleb assumed, who looked well into his manhood by what was left, was pinned against a tree with several arrows protruding from his chest. Caleb could only shake his head in shame at the scene, the dead family with their meager belongs strew about, anything of value taken.

"Come on, let's get these two out of the water at least."

Aldarn turned an even darker shade of green, but waded off after the woman's corpse without complaint. Caleb was impressed by his gall, but it quickly faded as he tried to pick up the rotting pieces of the man. He could feel his breakfast trying to make its way back up his stomach as he performed his task.

"Mister Hansen, look!"

Aldarn had placed the woman's body upon the shore, but grasped in his hand was a thick brass locket. He handed the jewelry to Caleb, who was momentarily confused. It wasn't worth anything, he thought, it wasn't even silver or nickel. Aldarn, picking up on his confusion, popped the locket open in his hand, revealing a waterlogged, but still legible picture.

It was obviously their erstwhile family, the man dressed in finery, his hand on his much smaller and lighter wife, who wore a serious face but was still beautiful in her sharpness. Below them sat their son, a dark, handsome man with an easy-going grin and thick ponytail and besides him...a girl, certainly his sister, with the same dark skin and hair, and soft doe-brown eyes. Caleb glanced up at the scene, three bodies and no signs of a fourth. They had been laying for some time, at least two weeks, and any tracks they might have followed had long been washed away.

"They must have took her." he said to Aldarn. Aldarn merely cocked his head, looking very much like a ugly, bald puppy.

"Why take her and not the mother?"

That was...a good point. "How could one little girl escape an ambush like this?" he asked.

"We have to look for her." Aldarn said, scanning the horizon. There wasn't a whole lot of places to hide on the plain, Caleb noted. He very much doubted that she had escaped, and if she had where would she go?

His companion however, seemed to be one step ahead of him, his gaze many, many, miles away to the barely visible other side of Griffix Lake, where there was some cover in the form of foothills and a sparse forest. He would feel his stomach lurch in excitement. If there was one thing Caleb could not resist, it was people in danger. It was why he joined the army, and the one good thing that he still had left from it.

"Alright, alright," he said, more to himself than Aldarn. "Let's go back to Haven, get some horses and supplies. We look for two days, if we don't find her or any trace of her by then we come back and forget about the whole deal."

Aldarn nodded in agreement. Caleb was surprised at his willingness to come along on such an endeavor. The thought that he should have asked someone else to join him crossed his mind; but anyone else he might have picked were walking bosses and needed back at the cut. Clutching the locket tight in hand, he and his companion made their way back to Haven to start their quest.

* * *

Phobos Escanor was _not_ having a good morning.

"You're telling me, my foreman of _barely_ a week has run off on some ridiculous snipe hunt for some missing woman, _without_ bothering to even ask me?"

Martin looked very much like he wished he were anywhere else. Papers trembled tremulously in his white knuckled grip.

"And has changed my sustenance contracts, _with your help,_ without my approval?"

The younger man nodded, his blue eyes watery behind his thick rimmed glasses. The desire to hit Martin had never been greater than at that moment. He felt the muscles in his arm twitch even as the idea entered his mind. However, memories of the last man he'd slapped swamped his mind, and a potent bitterness swept any thoughts of acting out his musings. His unbidden memories however, only served as fuel to his already dangerously out of control fire.

Phobos grasped his chief engineer by his stained cavat and slammed his head into the table, his eye line in point of the place on the map Martin promised him they'd be at by now. The man cried out under his grasp, but didn't try to struggle.

"And," he pushed Martin's head into the table even harder in emphasis; his eyes were leaking tears now, "we are nowhere where we need to be!"

Phobos rarely raised his voice, he usually didn't need to to be heeded, but ever since he had started this venture he'd found himself yelling more and more; sometimes at nothing. Which did nothing but frustrate him more. He let go of Martin with a snarl, and the young man felt to the floor with a heavy thump. Phobos turned back to Napoleon, who had forgotten was there in his rage.

"Find me someone else." he ordered. However, it seemed mutiny had spread across all the ranks.

"I don't think that's the wisest idea, the men already respect him and I think he has-"

Whatever grasp he'd had on his temper slipped from him then.

"Get out! Both of you!"

He was so furious his voice cracked as he spat the words out. Napoleon quickly helped Martin to his feet, and ushered both of them out of the office and into the rain. The door slammed door with an clank and then the office was silent save the rain dropping unto the tin roof.

Phobos raked his fingers through his fashionably cropped hair. He almost wished Cornelia was here so he could twist his fingers through her long golden hair, but she offered resistance when he pulled and wrenched, batting his hands away not at all like the dutiful lover she liked to present herself as.

The irony that in another world, or a different time he might have respected his new foreman's actions was not lost upon him. Had Caleb done such bold moves on his behalf he might have even admired him, instead he felt a deep loathing set in for a man he barely knew. And that was becoming the least of his worries.

Escanor Rail had a new head of directors, elected by men he thought had been in his pocket. Of course with empty pockets came well...emptier pockets. He'd received a crisp, white letter from one Nerissa Crossnic that fine morning, informing him of her new position. He knew precious little about the recently widowed woman, save her investment habits and huge inheritance from her second husband. That would have been enough to worry him, _without_ her inquiries into the suspicious lack of funds in the railroads coffers and invitation to return to the capital to discuss it at his leisure.

She must have known. Ambitious people like them, they wouldn't take such a position unless there was something to be gained. Indeed, the last cent of railroad funds had been spent acquiring a Thebite mine so he wouldn't have to pay anyone else for the fuel needed to power his trains. If he was going to build this empire he would do it his way, or not at all. He'd thrown the letter in the fire, something he was doing with more and more letters he noticed. If she wanted to come snatch the rail from his hands she would have to come do it herself. He would not come to her and justify himself before some silly woman.

Perhaps, by the time she decided to come investigate for herself, they would cross the gorge, and the empty rail safe would be full seemed unlikely, given his current luck and he couldn't leave his fate to such a gamble...but where to get more money? He cast a glance at the map, where Martin's tears marked their current position. He tasted blood in his mouth, he'd been chewing at inside of his cheeks in distress.

He'd banked too much on them making good time, he should have known better, he chastised himself harshly. He would get himself out of this mess before the Crossnic woman and her turncoat 'board of directors' came to steal all he had built. He always did, after all.

* * *

AUTHORS NOTE;

Chapter's a little shorter than usual, but it seemed a good place to stop. Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed and/or just taken the time to read my story. It is very much appreciated.

RoR out.


	6. The Pits

It had taken nearly the whole first day to get to the grove in the first place, Caleb noted in annoyance. The duo had returned to Haven quickly enough after finding the scene; Caleb avoiding the area near the office by lurking behind the few permanent structures in the yard. However, instead of running into his callous employer, his sneaking had nearly landed him in Cornelia's lap as she took in the sun behind her railcar on one of few undisturbed spots of thick grass.

She gazed up at him with those bright blue eyes, shocked and annoyed by his intrusion into her sunbathing. The harshness seemed to fade slightly as she recognized his face, and she quickly brushed herself off and stood to greet him. Caleb felt that sweet tightening of his chest as she did, like a child looking upon the glory of spring in full bloom for the first time. Of course, all springs had their storms, Cornelia included. Her wedding band flashing in the peeking sun like the burn of lighting in the sky.

"Mister Hansen, I didn't expect to see you back so early." she said, her voice so curt it sounded forced. He had surprised her, the slight pinkening of her cheeks betraying the harshness of her voice.

"Well, you see," he smiled conspiratorially, leaning into her as if whispering a secret, "I have very special mission I must attend to."

It was a strange thing, that the presence of someone he barely knew could make him feel ten years younger, like the war had never happened, like his father had never…

"And what would that be?" she asked, the corners of her lips tugging up ever-slightly despite the sarcasm in her voice.

Caleb debated toying with her some more, but suddenly the locket in his pocket felt ever-so heavy and he remembered that someone out there in the wild needed him more than he needed to stare at Cornelia. He pulled out the locket, and held the picture out for Cornelia for inspection.

"Who are these people?" she asked, taking the locket from his grasp.

"I don't know," he admitted, leaning against the railcar besides her, "I found the rest of the family, but the girl is missing."

Cornelia glanced up at him, her eyes narrowed, and he couldn't place her expression off hand. "What happened to them?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"Dead, kahedrin attack." he told her.

Her brow furrowed, as she studied the faces captured in the picture. Her delicate fingers traced their frozen features, before looking back at the railcar. Caleb followed her gaze, as light peals of laughter floated on the wind back to them.

"Are you going to find her?" she asked.

"I'm going to try." he told her.

"Good," she stated, actual shortness entering her tone now. Caleb gently tugged the locket from her fingers and placed it back in his pocket.

"You must love playing the hero, Mister Hansen." she said sharply, and Caleb was taken aback by her accusation. Old wounds tugged at his heart, like a bullet splitting against bone and he turned away from the woman.

"I don't do it to 'play hero', I do it because it's the right thing to do." he told her, his tone even. He set off in the direction of his tent, to gather up his things for the trip. His father had accused him of 'playing hero' too, as he walked out of the door to join the army. A hero would have been with his father when the end came. Caleb was no hero, he was just…

"Wait!" Cornelia called out, before continuing almost shyly, "If need to borrow a horse, you can take Lady if you want. She could use the exercise."

Caleb felt a smile spread across his face of its own volition, despite it all. He gave her one one last glance, and told her,

"I will, and thanks."

The grin she gave in back in response could have lifted him though anything he thought, save actually mounting the damn horse. _Lady_ gnashed at his fingers as he tried to put the bridle in her mouth, and whirled around him so fast he was sure the mare was going to crush him. Her eyes bulging, and the glint they contained could only be described as madness. Aldarn watched, looking slightly amused from atop the ragged looking chestnut he'd managed to acquire.

"You need to tie her up first," he offered, after Lady reared up on her hind legs and Caleb had been forced to leap out of the coral into the mud.

Caleb eyed the other two horses, the tall palomino gelding who was idly munching on hay from his trough, and the white horse had lazily trodden over, and pushed her nose into Caleb's vest looking for treats.

"Shouldn't I ask first?" he quipped, pushing Adira's head from his chest, who huffed and stamped her feet in displeasure.

Aldarn merely shook his head, and climbed off his horse to help him saddle up Lady. To Caleb's great displeasure, the great grey horse stood at the ready for Aldarn, mocking him as she stood leisurely while Aldarn put her saddle over her.

His companion held her while Caleb swung himself over the horse, however with Aldarn at her side the mare made no move to throw him or roll her shoulders under him. Caleb felt a slight pang of jealousy as took up the reigns; he'd never been good with animals, not even the ones at his own farm. His father had been the one with the patience and gentle nature, not him. He'd only ever been good at fighting. Fighting his father, fighting the war, fighting himself. The peaceful life of a farm boy laying in the sun dreaming of fair maidens seemed like the hazy memories from another age. He had met his fair maiden yes, and yet, she belonged to another. The sky would crack and bleed before he could snatch Cornelia away from her _perfect_ marriage.

The two men set off at a decent pace towards the setting sun, and the woods. Aldarn kept a far enough distance between them on his horse that conversation could not be forced, so they rode in silence, save the horse's hooves slamming into the muddy earth. It was better this way, as the two men had few enough words for each other. Caleb couldn't help but think that this venture was a fool's errand, that no young girl would have enough wits to make it in the wilds with a Kahedrin horde at her back. She might have seen the fires from Haven glowing in the distance and tried to make her way there and been caught, with that much open land between the woods and their home. She might have never made it out alive in the first place, and perhaps her body had simply floated further down the river than the rest of her families, being the lightest and all. There were a million other reasons to turn around and return to Haven, and yet he never did. Caleb had never argued with anyone who had ever called him a fool either.

The slow descent of the sun chilled the plains, and a fog was drifting up from the winding river, hanging low and heavy over the rolling hills. It made the land look much eerier than it really was, and made the horses paw at the ground in hesitation. Caleb looked back at Aldarn, whose older chestnut had come to a sudden stop, nostrils flared and eyes wild. There was still many miles till they reached the woodline, and Caleb had no desire to camp in open land like this. Regret watered down the rising fear, they should have waited till morning to leave, he thought suddenly. Lady huffed in displeasure, her ears pinned back against her head, when a sharp howl drifted across the plains to the north. Across the river, a matching cry rose up not far where they were halted. Caleb felt the tension in his shoulders ease as he recognized the mournful sounds.

"Vulnixes," Aldarn breathed, sounding as relieved as Caleb felt, "I'm surprised they are this far north."

The two squinted in the direction of the closer howl, but only a slim red outline could be seen scurrying through the fog in the dying light.

"They must live in the forest," he commented. Vulnixes were rarely found past the great timbers of the South, and Caleb had seem a few during his time in the Grey Woods. They were skittish animals, with large round yellow eyes, silky red fur and huge pointed ears half the size of their whole head. They were avid hunters, but feared humans like the Light herself had burned them. Only the wealthiest ladies of the capitol wore their coats for their own, as they were too wily to often fall for traps. He wonderly idly, if Cornelia had one.

"Come on," he urged as the creature hurried out of view, the horses returning to some state of normalcy as it did.

Lady didn't seem thrilled to be traveling in the quickly fading light, her body tense and shaky under him, but they had little choice now. The two stayed closer together now, the horses nickering at each other warily as they crossed the plains in the growing moonlight.

The Vulnixes would howl to each other on occasion as the one hurried off towards the other in the north, and hoppers sang deep songs from their homes in the rivers, and he thought he heard the faint echoes of a wolves howling too in the distance, but if it was they were too far away to be any danger. Caleb had travelled many times at night with the army, when stealth was required, he'd never liked it, too many ways for things to go wrong, especially in smaller groups, and two was a very small group indeed.

The moon was high in the sky when the pair finally came in view of the patch of forest. They had rode the horses hard once light was gone trying to make the best time. He could feel Lady quivering, her exhaustion plain. If she hadn't him hated before, she surely would now, he thought. The two decided it was too late to make a true camp, so instead they unfurled their bedrolls near the tied up horses, but neither man felt like sleeping in the unfamiliar territory. The tall, black trees looming overhead reminded Caleb of his old home, however that fact did little to soothe his discomfort. He used to like the great oaks and pines, fragrant and mighty, austere in their beauty and charm; but now they seemed like towering ghosts liable to crush him at any time.

He kept watch for any flickering lights across the plains, but not even the rail camp could be seen through the fog that crept across the landscape. He could hear thunder rumbling across the plains, and lighting fork in the distance, however. Storms rolled in fast near the gorge, faster than anything he'd ever seen. So, he and Aldarn moved their bed rolls under a vast old pine. When the rain did come down they were mostly protected, through a few drops still dropped unto his face as he stared up at what he could see of the sky.

"What made you decide to work out here?" Aldarn asked from his side, finally breaking the hours long silence that hung between them.

What had made him choose to work on the rail? New beginnings? Fate? Destiny?

"A letter." he answered simply, remembering the crisp white letter with Martin's messy handwriting upon it. It wasn't as simple as that, it never was, of course, but Aldarn didn't seem to care.

"My father wanted to work here," he began quietly, "thought it would make things better."

Caleb blinked.

"Trying to make things better usually make them worse."

In his town, when he had just barely reached his manhood they spoke of the war like it was greatest thing this country had ever seen. It was supposed to be exciting, and grand and important. Instead it had stunk, sometimes he could still smell it in his dreams. When bullets ripped into stomachs and cut open intestines and bile pussed out of gaping wounds. When men weren't even safe in their deathbeds…

"I'm sorry about your father." he said, almost absently.

"It doesn't matter," came the answer in the dark.

Caleb could taste the words in the back of his mouth, but held them back. He could hear Lady and the other horse pawing the ground again, anxious and fearful once more. This time however, the cold pulse of blood that shot up his neck warned him the danger was more than a passing animal. Aldarn made a quiet _shr shr_ as he pulled his knife from his bag. Caleb should have brought him a gun, he thought miserably, but he only had his own.

"Eh? What's that Borris?"

It was a man's voice, deep and gravelly creeping through the black night through the trees behind them. Caleb ran his thumb over the metal cylinder of his revolver, hoping Aldarn would hold steady as well. The dark was too dense to signal him.

"Horses!" cried another voice that he suspected was not Borris by the softer, feminine tone of the voice.

"Shush!" implored yet another person. He could hear them trying to strike a lantern but it was too damp. But it was enough. He could see the spark of the match.

In one swift motion, he pushed himself up and fired a shot into the darkness where the match had been. He heard the _thud_ where the bullet impacted and the _shosh_ of blood hitting the ground and rasping gurgle told him that he had guessed true.

The other two yelped in surprise, and the horses reared and screamed in fear but the ropes held.

"Run!" he heard the women yell, and another shot rang out into the forest, and Caleb heard the tree behind him splinter and explode. He froze, not wanting to give away his position, but they were in full retreat, their footsteps in the wet leaves leading to the east.

"What the hell?" yelled Aldarn, "you didn't even know who they were?"

Caleb replaced his gun in his holster, and shook his head, not that the other man could see.

"No one good," he assured him.

"You don't know that, what if it was the girl?" he snapped. Caleb wandered over to the body, and blindly fiddled for the fallen lantern and matches. It took him a minute but the Therbite eventually took to flame. He held the light over the man, for inspection. His face was scarred and grey and most certainly Kahedrin, broad and plain with pointed ears.

Somehow, this seemed to make Aldarn madder.

"But you didn't know that when you shot him!" he declared.

"Who do you think we are fighting?" he asked, quickly rolling up his bed roll. They would be back, he knew and soon.

Aldarn had no words for him, as he stood over the corpse, him lips pursed in annoyance. Had this same man not lectured him on patience and restraint just hours earlier? And now he was shooting bullets into the darkness? What sort of madness was that?

Caleb handed Aldarn his bed roll and ushered him back towards the horses. They needed to leave, and fast. Reinforcements would soon follow, no doubt and they needed to be away from here and somewhere they could spring a trap, if at all possible.

"Wait!" Aldarn cried out to him, pointing to something in the ground. He had to hand it to his companion, he was very observant if nothing else. He trotted over to where Aldarn stood.

The two men lingered over a strange...dent in the earth, for lack of a better term. Caleb looked at it cautiously, fearful of the others returning.

"It almost looks like a semi-collapsed mine shaft," Aldarn began, "or a sinkhole."

Caleb took another step forward on what he hoped what a ledge of solid ground. It wasn't. In an instant the earth hoped her great black maw, and swallowed the two men up. He heard Lady nickering above him as he fell, and he could have sworn it sounded amused.

* * *

"It's my fault!" she decompressed noisily into Miranda's shoulder. The other woman patted her awkwardly, knowing in some ways it was true.

"Yes, but it would have been you, if it hadn't been her." she told her, her eyes sharper than broken glass. Miranda never had been one to mince words, after all.

Irma knew that, and it made her feel even worse when she felt a pinch of relief in the statement. She'd spent the most wonderful night with a man who had been both gentle and kind, a rare enough thing in her line of work. Who had thanked her for making him feel better, spent the night with her, and left little pink flowers by her side when he left in the morning. That wonderful illusion however had all come crashing back down when she returned to the cat house in the morning. Raythor had been standing outside, his face pale and drawn as it was when he was working, and none too relieved when he saw her.

"I thought you were missing too girl," he explained, as she had sauntered back to him.

"Missing? Who is missing?" she asked harshly, the fear that had been her constant companion on the rail creeping back into her bones.

" Well," he began, looking slightly bashful at his choice of words, "She ain't missing."

"I don't understand" she said, even though she did. "Who?"

As if on some morbid cue, one of the men carried out the body. She was covered with a blanket and only a pale limp hand hung out from under it. Irma felt herself freeze, her arms suddenly weighing a hundred pounds each and made of solid ice.

Unbiddenly, she reached out and pulled the blanket from her face. It had been Alchemy, her face swollen and bruised even in death, her nose cooked and broken, her lip split and hair mussed. Irma let the blanket fall back over her, silent.

There had been no answers as to the culprit, and yet somehow, Sondra's unwillingness to speak on the matter told her all she needed to know. It wasn't fair, she thought to herself.

It didn't make sense, a madam was supposed to protect her girls and her girls made her money in turn and yet Sondra could barely seem to care whether they lived or died. She wondered, her stomach churning, if somehow she got extra money for the ones that got _hurt_. And next week two more girls would take Alchemy's place on the train in, and her ginger haired friend would be forgotten, left for the vultures to pick at .

She hated her so much. She hated it all, Sondra, Frost, every last one of them. Alchemy had been good, and kind, and gentle and they had killed her. Who would be next, when the next john pushed a little too hard and Sondra didn't care. Her? Miranda? Did that even matter?

"We have to stop this, somehow, someway!" she cried. Miranda didn't seem particularly interested in her cries however, and merely shook her head.

"You better keep your head down, or you will be next." she warned, her voice hard but not without a sliver of concern for her friend.

Irma didn't care. She couldn't sit here and let this happen, that wasn't her. Her blood would turn to water and spill from her veins like air before she would let them hurt people just because they could.

She stood up abruptly, as Miranda looked up at her wearily. "Irma…" she started.

"No." she shook her head, the words having trouble forming in her mouth for once, but that did nothing to weaken her resolve. She had came to this railroad for fun and adventure, and now she would right her own wrongs. Like the heros in the story, but it would just be her fighting the injustices of the world...and well, maybe…

Irma cocked her eyebrow at the cross looking Miranda, a silent plea for her help.

For a moment, her face was unreadable. Irma saw the flicker of something slink across her face, that made Irma's own stomach tighten in a strange way, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Miranda was always notoriously hard to read.

"Fine." she groaned, clearly not enthused with Irma's righteousness. Still, for reasons not even the brunette knew, Miranda was like to follow her anywhere.

This was it. She could feel herself trembling, the world spinning around her, and through the fear; excitement.

* * *

Black, yellow, orange, and green?

Caleb blinked away the blur from his eyesight, and was greeted by Aldarn's almost human face gazing down at him. The dim light from their fractured lantern highlighted the harsh white bones that accented his brow.

"What happened?" the other man asked, but Caleb must have hit his head harder than he thought and words sounded jumbled.

"What?" he questioned, his own voice loud enough to make him flinch. Aldarn just shook his head, and helped Caleb to his feet. Nothing hurt besides his head, and even that was a dull pain, compared to some things he'd experienced in life. Caleb glanced around their surroundings, he could hear the horses worrying far above them, but their broken lantern couldn't cast enough light to illuminate that far above them. Instead it cast cracked shadows on the obsidian black walls that funneled around them.

"This doesn't look like a mineshaft," Aldarn mumbled from behind him. Caleb had never seen a mineshaft before, so he would take the Galhots word for it.

"Mudslug tunnel?" he asked. The huge worm-like creatures usually lived farther out in the plains, but it wouldn't be unheard of to see one here. Aldarn shook his head in the negative through, and pointed to the rock walls. Upon inspection the black rock bore small but prominent chip marks in it down the length of the wall.

"I thought this wasn't a mining tunnel?" he snapped, as he traced his hands on the primitive looking marks.

"I think it's...just a tunnel." his fellow responded, his heavy brow furrowed in confusion.

Ignoring (to the best of his ability) the somewhat ominous implications of tunnels in the middle of nowhere, Caleb picked up what was left of their light source, the Therbite's unnatural glow was dimming as they spoke, and turned to the east running tunnel. Deeper into the forest, or under it rather. They couldn't stay here, or hope to scale the walls, and surely, he thought, the tunnel must end up somewhere.

"Well, when in doubt, keep to the right." he intoned. Aldarn groaned from beside him, and the two men descended further into the blackness.

* * *

AN: Yeah...

I had some trouble with this chapter as you can probably tell from both length and quality, but I was determined to get this chapter out. Thanks to everyone for their support and reviews. A special shout-out to DarkCat for reviewing every chapter so far! Next chapter should be out sooner. Thank you again! RoR out.


	7. Something Smells Funny

Caleb had been in just about every dangerous, awful, and tight situation one could imagine. Pinned down by gunfire in wet, cold trenches, clutching at his throat as a loaded carriage sank under the frothing white rapids of a raging river, and cornered by hermeneuta beasts in nothing but his smallclothes. Perhaps his least proud moment, he thought, pink coloring his cheeks even now.

He had however, never been in a smellier place than this dark, dank tunnel. Which, he noted in slight, but gathering fear, was getting smaller as they went further down it. Still that fact was nothing compare to the damn smell of the thing. The closest comparison his memory could dredge up was a fish kill off of a lake near Carhaiz, which was not comforting in the least. Aldarn had cut off part of his ratty coat and fashioned himself a sort of face covering in the hopes of blocking the overpowering stench from his lungs. As his coughing fits bounced off the walls, Caleb gathered it hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped. It was just the sort of stink that just couldn't be denied, and being trapped underground with it made it that much worse.

Neither man was brave enough to ask the other what they thought the stink was, as it lingered to close in their minds with the rot of death. Caleb blocked the idea from his brain completely, knowing worrying about it would do him no good now. They could only go forward or back at this point and so Caleb focused upon that; going forward in the now barely visible light.

Surely the tunnel _must_ go somewhere, what would be the point of a tunnel if it didn't lead _somewhere?_ But...as far as he knew there were no settlements out here, save perhaps Kahedrin ones; which was another unsettling thought. _Right into the belly of the beast_ , Caleb thought glumly, swinging the torch around in a desperate bid to keep it lit.

There was barely enough air to keep a whole piece of Therbite lit, and certainly not their shattered bits, but moving it seemed to help to an extent. The rest of his fuel was still in the saddle bag, still attached to Lady, far above them. Although as Aldarn had pointed out roughly half a mile ago, the tunnel was starting to slope towards the surface. Caleb hadn't decided if that was a good thing or not. He hated places like this, it gave one time to think. Caleb had spend most of his adult life trying not to _think._ To think of blood, and bones and vengeance, and all those dark thoughts that hung under his bright surface. For a long time they had been his only friends, his only family; and while Caleb had tried to evict them, they were difficult thoughts to buck.

 _You must love to play the hero,_ Cornelia's voice echoed in his mind. If only she knew, that he needed to play the hero to make up for…so much.

"I kept thinking that smell must have been some sort of gas, but it shouldn't be getting worse the higher we go." complained Aldarn. Despite what must have been a poor upbringing, the galhot had a very logical mind and only brought suggestions or comments to Caleb after mulling over them for fallacies. Caleb didn't know the first thing about gas and tunnels but he nodded at Aldarn's assessment all the same.

"I was stupid to think we could find her, you know." Aldarn finally said, kicking at a loose rock. "I just thought, if we could find her alive, it would make up for everything else."

Caleb understood that, he understood it well. It was the dream of the young and innocent when hurt before they turned to blood in their rage. For whatever reason, as his conscience griped at him in the back of his head, he could not let that happen to Aldarn. He'd stopped him once, he could do it again.

"We will find her. I promise."

He heard Aldarn hold back a snort, but otherwise didn't respond to his reassurance. Caleb knew how empty the words must feel, when they didn't even know where _they_ were but it was better than nothing.

"Why did you bring me along in the first place?" Aldarn asked as the last of their light flickered away. Caleb swore, and tried blowing life into it, but to no avail. Sighing he dropped the lantern and continued his march, his hand against the wall for guidance.

"I thought you just said you wanted to come." Caleb said, a pinch of aggravated humour entering his voice

"I did," he admitted. "But that doesn't explain why you brought me here instead of someone else. I don't know how to fight or shoot a gun or anything."

"Look, when you're going on fair damsel hunts, I find it's best to bring someone with a good heart," Caleb laughed. Aldarn just grunted from somewhere in the darkness behind him.

"Look," he began again, "i-when we get out of here, I'll teach you to shoot. It's a useful skill out here."

"Why?" his companion intoned.

"What is with all this why business? Does everything have to have a tenfold reason? I just told you it's a useful skill. Could save your life out here." Caleb snapped. He'd never been the best at camaraderie, and the ever tightening tunnel frayed at his nerves even more.

"Yes, fine, but why do you care?" Aldarn sounded as peeved as he felt now.

"Nevermind. Forget it." Caleb said harshly, partly from annoyance and partly because he'd smashed his head against a low hanging ceiling. He thanked the Light for the first time in a long while that he wasn't claustrophobic.

"I think we must be getting close to the end, and the surface." said Aldarn, running his hands on the changing rock formations. The smooth rock was starting to give way to muddy but still hardened clay, and he could have swore he felt a deep tree root poking through. The tunnel had narrowed to the point the men had to stoop; Caleb blindly grasping the walls for purchase.

 _What if it just ends?_ He thought to himself in a panic, then quickly told himself in a stern voice; _then we just turn around and try the other end._

He could hear the clay walls start to crumble as he grasped at them, and Aldarn frantically hissed at him to stop. Both men halted and listened as the tunnel slowly and slightly disintegrated around them.

"We need to move quickly, but don't touch the walls if you can help it." Aldarn said, somewhat needlessly.

That was easier said than done, the tunnel was growing narrower still and Caleb could barely fit his shoulders through its width. His breath was catching in his throat and it took everything he had to keep it even. _Calm calm._

"Okay lets-"

He froze. He could feel heavy clods of dirt fall unto his back, slowly, then faster and faster and Aldarn was pushing into his shoulders, pushing them both forward as Caleb lurched into the collapsing tunnel. The smell of fresh dirt blocked out even the rank of the tunnel and all Caleb could think about was fresh graves as dirt fell on his face and into his clothes.

The tunnel was so narrow here Caleb had to dig his boots into the dirt to get through even with Aldarn pushing his whole weight against him in panic. It was arching up fast too, nearly vertical and impossible to climb in such a frantic state. Aldarn cursed and cried out below him, and he gave one final heave and the two pushed through the gap. However, Caleb's face smashed into something hard and solid. True, dreadful, dark, panic set in.

 _It_ _ **did**_ _just end_ , he thought horrified. The dirt was piling up to the end of his boots, and his fear was so strong he could think of nothing else but the ground swallowing him whole as he clawed desperately at the end of the tunnel. Caleb could only focus on trying to dig himself out as he heard Aldarn start to gag on the soil covering him up. His fingers tried to dig into the soil but it was too hard and they only came back bloody and splintered. Caleb yelled and kicked at the tunnel until the dirt was up to his waist and he could barely move.

 _Wait._

Suddenly sense flooded back into Caleb's brain. _Splinters?_ He thought, even as the tunnel closed in around him. _It's a door._

He ran his fingers along the length of the door praying for an iron handle or something, anything. _Please please please._

He couldn't exactly recall how he found the handle, but he must have because the next minute torchlight flooded the tunnel and he was blinded as he pulled himself out. He paused for a heart-beat, top air filled his lungs and he was too pleased to notice the stink had returned full force. His peace lasted only a millisecond, and then with his eyes still stinging from the light, he turned back for Aldarn.

His companion was completely covered and still stuck in the tunnel. Caleb dug into the soft but dense earth madly, feeling for a hand or a face or anything to grab hold of. His bleeding fingers scrambled and found nothing. _Fuck Fuck Fuc-_

"Aldarn!" he yelled, hoping his voice would spur the other man into an action that would reveal his presence. He had no choice but to keep digging, surely Aldarn couldn't be that far below the surface. _He was right behind me._

Despite his digging, he could hear movement behind him. Voices, in high but yet gravelly tones surrounding him, all around him. But he couldn't look up, couldn't fight; not until Aldarn was safe. _Not again_.

Finally through the dirt he felt fabric, and pulled with all his might to free his companion. Aldarn popped out of the tunnel filthy and out of breath, but otherwise uninjured. He collapsed on the ground, coughing grime out of his lungs while Caleb reached for his pistol and pivoted towards the voices.

That's when the screaming started.

They were in some sort of grotto, with murky stagnant water filled with rotting lily pads and odd and ends pieces of refuse. Along the sides of the cave vast amounts of _stuff_ lined the walls. Wheels, fabrics, wood, rusted metals, and all manner of trash was heaped _everywhere_. And all amongst the trash was little, green, _people?_ Caleb wasn't sure exactly _what_ they were, but as they ran about their camp screaming, and waving their long arms about wildly it wasn't easy to tell either.

Not a single one of the maybe twenty creatures was in anything resembling a state of calm, and Caleb could do nothing but watch them run into each other and their trash piles as they recklessly attempted to flee.

"Passlings." Aldarn coughed out the unfamiliar word from beside him.

"What?" he asked incredulously, covering his nose. The alarmed beings seemed to be the cause of the stench, and it was far worse up here than it had been in the tunnels.

"They're-," Aldarn relapsed into another coughing fit before continuing. "Scavengers, they like to hang around mines and swipe things. They're harmless."

"Urg, except for the smell," Caleb complained.

Aldarn stood up and surveyed the situation. He waved his own arms in the air in an attempt to gain the passlings attention. One stopped, and as his huge yellow eyes bulged out, promptly fainted before them. Many screamed louder and threw themselves upon the floor at the mercy of the 'invaders'.

"No no, it's okay! We aren't here to hurt you!" Aldarn said gently, as if to children. Ugly, smelly, screaming children.

"We just...got lost. We fell in your tunnel and-"

The passlings attention shifted to the collapsed shaft, and they let lose another collective wail as they gathered around the fresh mound of dirt.

"The safety burrow!" an older, vaguely female looking one yelled, throwing the dirt up into the air, fat tears leaking from her eyes. Others threw themselves face first into the dirt and pounded their wart covered fists, shaking and crying madly. Aldarn looked positively mortified at the scene and Caleb was fighting with all his strength to stop from laughing. He wasn't winning.

"Um, yeah. Sorry about that." Aldarn said, scratching his head.

"It was shitty construction anyway." Caleb added, mostly for his own amusement.

A few of the Passlings had gathered in front of them now, presenting them with their finest pieces of trash. A moldy top hat, a old watch with teeth marks, and the barrel of a shotgun wrapped in vines.

"Oh thank you-" started Aldarn.

"Please oh tunnel giants, no eat Passlings!" One cried, throwing the top hat at Aldarn who reluctantly caught it, his face curled in disgust.

"We aren't here to hurt you," Aldarn tried to explain again.

Caleb surveyed his surroundings more closely as Aldarn tried to reason with the creatures some more. They were definitely still in the forest proper, but in some cavity, a natural sink hole or very small cave, but he could see the great trees hanging overhead and protecting the grotto from rain. Surely they could make it back to the horses from here on the surface since the tunnel had been in a straight line.

"We are sorry about your...burrow." Aldarn told them, having gathered quite an audience of wide-eyed gawkers by now.

"Safety burrow allows passlings to go across empty lands to lake without being seen. Very sneaky!" said the older female passling.

"Yes, very clever passlings!" answered a few of her fellows.

Aldarn cocked his head at the passlings curiously. "Why do you go to the lake? Don't you hate water?"

 _They obviously haven't taken a bath in a hundred years,_ Caleb thought to himself harshly.

"Come on, we have to get back to the horses before something else finds them." he told Aldarn. He could only imagine Cornelia's ire if her horse was injured or worse under his watch.

"Right." he agreed, looking down at his following. "Umm, well. We have to go. We are looking for someone. A young woman like us, with dark hair?"

Caleb rolled his eyes at the thought that these beings would have any idea what they were talking about, but before he could even take a step forward the Passlings erupted in a excited manner, about ten all trying to speak at once.

"Yes, yes! Miss Cook!"

"Yes! She passling friend!"

"Brave Blunk take Miss Cook to the big lights in empty lands!"

Caleb and Aldarn exchanged surprised looks, somehow this distraction had led them right on the trail. Caleb would have thanked the Light, but he remembered almost being buried alive and decided to hold his breath. Maybe when he was safe back in his tent. Aldarn gestured with his hands for them to remain calm, and turned to the older woman, who seemed the most coherent of the group.

"Is this the girl?" he asked, as Caleb fished out the picture to show her. The likelihood of more than one girl running loose here was low but he had to be sure. This was enough of a wild goose chase without adding to it.

"Yes, that her." the woman confirmed. Relief flooded Caleb's veins again and then disbelief. He didn't think they would actually find her no matter how hard they tried despite his promises to Aldarn.

"What are the big lights? Is Blunk one of you? When did they leave?" Caleb asked her roughly. Suddenly the older woman turned cool, and looked nervously about the camp. Caleb could feel the atmosphere change, and subconsciously reached for his pistol though the little passlings could pose no threats to him.

"Why should tell tunnel giants where nice girl is? Ruined safety burrow, and could be hunting nice girl like the bad ones." she told him, and Caleb had to admire the erratic creatures bravery even as it infuriated him.

Aldarn stepped in, calm and gentle as he had been before. "I am very sorry about your tunnel, but it was falling in even without our help. You are lucky none of you got trapped in it and died."

It was obvious the Passlings liked him more, so Caleb let him work his magic and leaned against one of the few empty and (relatively) clean places on the cave wall. The irony of his words didn't escape Caleb though it might have for Aldarn. _It was too unsteady, just like those rocks._

"We found this girl's family by the river, dead. We are looking for her to help her. We don't want to hurt her or you. Please help us, there are...bad people looking for her too, and your friend won't be able to fight them off by himself."

The passling woman looked stricken, and then relented, her eyes close to tears again. "Yes, please help them. Momma doesn't want her Blunky-boo hurt."

"We will, I promise. Just tell us where they went." he told her softly.

"Blunk took nice girl towards the big lights that sit on the plains to the East. A few hours ago." she told him.

"That must be Haven," Aldarn told Caleb. "Looks like this was a wasted trip."

Caleb shook his head. "No, that's still fifteen miles to get across with no horses, and anyone can see them out there. They are in more trouble now than they were before."A fresh sense of urgency filled him now, and his mind started formulating the game plan.

"Alright, we go back and get the horses." This would not have been so high on his list had it been his own horse (if he had one) and not Cornelia's out in the woods, plus, he reasoned, they needed the speed advantage. "Then we circle back and follow the sun, it should be up soon. We should be able to catch up with them relatively quickly." _I hope._

Aldarn nodded his approval, and thanked _Momma_ for her time; apologizing about the tunnel once more as he did. He collected their trash offerings with only a slightly wrinkled nose and joined Caleb at the foot of the depression. Caleb was thankful to leave the grotto and its hyper-odiferous denizens behind, and thankful they had a straight path to follow in both directions.

Aldarn had taken a torch from the grotto and used it to light their way as they trekked through the black forest. The huge pines loomed high above them, so tall Caleb couldn't even reach the start of their first needle growth. They were old, very old. A sole sentinel of the endless plains that surrounded them. The two were quiet for the most part as they made their way back to the horses not wanting to give away their position or not hear incoming threats.

Once Caleb could hear the erie cries of the Vulpixes he knew they were getting close again. He could only hope that the horses were still there and okay. He didn't even want to imagine Cornelia's face if he had to tell her that Lady wasn't coming back. He should have known better than to take her horse on something that might have turned out dangerous, he berated himself as they passed silently among the great pine giants. Even if the horse was an ass. _I guess we make quite the pair then._

However when they finally reached the spot that they had fallen into the tunnel, it appeared that the Light was done being kind to them. The horses and the body of the fallen Kahedrin were missing.

"God damn it!" was only the first of a stream of curses that Caleb let loose. Furious, he kicked out at tree trunk with enough force that he nearly broke his toes. Red hot pain shot up his leg, but his fury was too great to truly feel it.

"Hold on," said the ever observant Aldarn as he examined where the horses had been tied up. The ropes had been cut cleanly but the ground showed a struggle and horse tracks led off into the forest without any boot prints following. "I doubt that monster of a horse of yours took too kindly to strange men trying to corral her." he laughed.

Caleb was still too nervous to laugh. It just meant that she was loose in the forest somewhere, putting herself and the woman they still had to find in danger.

"They could be anywhere by now." he said, keeping his voice low.

"We just have to follow the tracks." Aldarn said. Caleb snarled and snatched the torch from his hands.

"I know that," he snapped, and Aldarn recoiled from his harsh tone. Caleb was too distressed to notice or apologize and stalked off after the tracks.

 _If she never speaks to me again, I don't know what I'll do._

 _She's not even your woman,_ argued another part of his brain, the logical part of him that also told him Cornelia was off-limits and even his thoughts of her would end up hurting them both. The rest of his brain was predictably less rational. She was a miserable woman, with an awful husband, and was clearly interested in him. What was the harm? He ignored the part of his mind that started listing the consequences as he walked on.

"Your horse, where did you get her? She's something else." Aldarn said finally, trying to break the ice that had formed over Caleb in his worried rage.

"She's not mine, Corne-Mrs. Escanor lent her to me." Caleb explained, the hard edge still in his voice. _And will kill me if she doesn't come back._

That quieted Aldarn; Caleb could only guess he was mulling over the implications of that statement but the boy was too smart to push the topic.

Or so he thought.

"She's very beautiful, Mrs. Escanor." he said tentatively, pushing the edge of the border.

"Yes." agreed Caleb simply. She was beautiful, but there was more under the surface if Caleb could just peel past those rigid and ruffled layers. If he ever got the chance. _She's a smart woman, surely knows better than to mess with men like you._ Talking and laughing was one thing, but certainly they could never be anything more. _Not fair._ Silence enveloped the two again, and it made Caleb's skin itch. He didn't want to think right now, he just wanted to be.

"You from Carhaiz?" he asked finally, unsure of where else to go with the void eating him up inside.

"Yeah, born and raised. You?"

"Grey Woods, around Leetiz." he answered. The Grey barely seemed real to him anymore, like distant memories of a childhood long past. Maybe it was better that way.

"Do you miss it?" Aldarn asked, unaware of the depth of the question. Caleb mulled over the answer for a time, and finally came back with the truth.

"Not anymore."

Aldarn had fallen silent again, thrown by the melancholy air that surrounded the other man.

"I'm sorry. It was like that with my home too. Our house was okay, but our neighbors burned to the ground, and my favorite bakery, our shop in the market. It feels like there is nothing left now, with him gone too."

Caleb swallowed, well aware that he might have been a part of that. The guilt racked him so hard he could feel his shoulders shake. He wished he could just forget the war, but deep down he knew he didn't deserve the relief of forgetting it. He wished he could bare his problems to the world like Aldarn but he held the pain too tightly, punishing himself for crimes no one else even knew about.

"Sorry," Aldarn said again, looking embarrassed. "I know you fought in the war, I didn't mean to make you-"

"It's fine." He hated how easily Aldarn brushed off his _service_ , that they were justified cause they won. He wanted someone to yell at him, to hit him, to-

A familiar nicker cut through the dark of his thoughts and the night. "Lady!" he shouted, forgetting himself for a moment. Both she and Aldarn's chestnut were happily shifting through a pond for the rich strands of Filney grass. The grey mare lifted her head at the sound of his voice and promptly pinned her ears and snorted at him indignantly. Caleb didn't even care, he was so happy to see her.

The saddles and bags were still attached to them by some miracle, though Lady's was hanging sideways on her belly, and she complained loudly when Caleb adjusted and tightened it. He'd never been so relieved to find a damn horse before.

Aldarn was up on his horse before Caleb, and pulled out a compass from his bag. They'd gone off course looking for the horses, but that was rectified easily enough.

Due East, and Haven was straight ahead.

Caleb swung his arms over Lady, and heaved himself over her gently. Not gently enough apparently because mid-swing the great grey mare bucked up high and tossed him into the pond. The water was oddly warm and filthy in a way only standing water could be. Caleb wiped the water from his eyes, and glared up at the horse who continued her grazing. Aldarn gave a small chuckle from behind him.

"Fucking horse." he mumbled under his breath. Maybe it would have been worth Cornelia's wrath if they hadn't found her.

Aldarn had to help him mount her again, the little shit that she was, and then they were off. The horses were still not comfortable riding in the night, but Caleb could see the first glimpse of the sunrise through the trees. They trotted at a reasonable pace trying to make up for lost time. A few quiet hours passed before Aldarn was ready to pick up conversation again.

"So, you and Mrs. Escanor know each other well?" he asked. Caleb wished he would have chosen something else to speak of.

"No," he said, honestly. "We've only spoken a few times."

"Oh." Was that disappointment he heard?

"What about you, have any ladies in your life?" he asked, half joking, certain Aldarn had never even seen a naked woman.

Instead, he flushed red and looked away, not answering the question. Caleb gave him a half amused, half surprised look, and merely shook his head. The forest had cleared now, and gave way to the familiar softly rolling hills of the plains. The sun was blinding over the horizon and Caleb had to shield his eyes to scan for the girl. Nothing yet, but there was a very faint odor that informed he that they were on the right trail.

"Listen!" hissed Aldarn, gesturing to the ridge to the north. Caleb halted Lady and peaked his ears. For a while, he heard nothing, just the winds whispering through the tall blades of grass. Then as the wind changed and blew towards them, he could hear it. Hoofs, men and screaming.

"Come on!" he yelled and spurred Lady into action. For once the beast responded and charged with all the strength and will of a great war horse and even through his focus he was surprised at her vigor. Aldarn and his older chestnut were left behind by an increasing margin, but that was for the best. He didn't even have a gun, Caleb remembered.

Lady rounded the ridge, it took Caleb a deal of strength to get her to halt for him to analyze the situation for a moment. Four men, one...passling thing, and sure enough the woman. The Kahedrin had them surrounded and…

And he was off, he and Lady careening down the hill with all the force of the train that had brought them here. Caleb aimed his pistol as best he could at the full gallop, but before he could get a shot off, the horse rammed into the man closest to them so hard he could hear the man's bones crack at the impact.

The other men scattered and yelped at the intrusion, as Caleb and Lady wheeled back around. The grey mare moved like she'd done the maneuver a thousand times, never pausing to allow the men to target her as she danced and whirled around the plain like a thunderstorm. Caleb made no moves to control her, but instead just followed her lead as she charged the men again. She was so fearsome, like a vengeful grey spirit, the men jumped out of her way without raising their guns against her.

Caleb took aim at one of the men, and took advantage of his surprise. His gun boomed in that ever-so-familiar way, and the man spat blood and fell to the ground, dead. The other two whirled around to face man and beast, one raising his shotgun and firing a blast. Lady reared at the sound, and Caleb felt a shower of shots fly past him, a few finding their mark in his arm. He gritted his teeth and yelled, Lady screaming with him though he could see no blood on her. Aldarn came charging down the hill now, armed with a large, heavy stick he must have found. Caleb almost laughed, what a brave, stupid, idiot. _This one is gonna give me a run for my money_ , he thought.

Lady was moving again, placing herself between the men and the two on the ground. The passling was screaming at the top of his lungs, hiding behind the dark girls torn and muddy skirts. Her eyes were filled with fire though, clutching a bloody knife in a tight fist.

 **Whack!**

Aldarn was upon them now, and swung his makeshift club in a perfect arch, catching one man square in the face. With a sickening crack his head exploded into a shower of blood, and he screamed in agony as he fell to the ground, clutching at what was left of his face. The last man knew he was beaten, and turned to face Caleb defiantly. Caleb put an end to it with another bullet and he fell alongside his comrades.

Aldarn was panting, his eyes wide and aghast at the carnage before them. Caleb however, wasn't even batting an eye. He slid off Lady, who had finally come to a rest, and turned to the girl and passling. She was almost as calm as him, outwardly anyway, holding her knife so steady Caleb didn't doubt she would use if she thought she must.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice a rich, thick accent that brought gold, and spices to Caleb's mind.

"I'm Caleb Hansen, foreman of the Escanor Rail, this is...Aldarn, my...um companion. We came to look for you, we uh, found your family. By the river."

The woman didn't soften, her doe brown eyes tapered with suspicion.

"Prove it," she told him. Caleb liked her, not in the same wide-eyed way he liked Cornelia, but her fire was completely different from Cornelia's soft, spring gaze.

"Okay," he told her, his mind reeling for anything to prove his statement. He fished in his pocket while she watched him carefully. He heard Aldarn gagging behind him as the dying man coughed up bits of blood and teeth.

"Here," he told the girl, throwing her a crisp, white letter, assuming she wouldn't dare come close enough to take it from him. She quickly grabbed the paper and scanned the words written there. She frowned.

"This only proves that the rail wanted you for foreman, not that you are." she told him. Caleb huffed.

"Look, it's the best I got. Either you come with us or you walk back by yourself." he told her, impressed by her gall.

She looked down at her own companion, who was still glued to her skirts and then to Aldarn who was fighting down a dry heave. She looked conflicted for a moment, biting her dry, cracked, lips in thought. Finally she looked back up at Caleb with a deadly certainty.

"There's no time for that," she told them, her voice urgent now. "Your town, if it is, is about to be attacked by those men, the Kahedrin. They told me just now. We have to help them."

Caleb froze, the blood in his veins suddenly too thick to keep moving through them. _Cornelia._

"Are you sure?" he asked her, desperately. She look slightly offended by his questioning of her, but she shook her head in the affirmative. "Yes, please we have to go!"

"Okay," he told her. "Get on."

"Wait, wait. I don't know. I don't know how to ride." She looked down embarrassed at her confession.

Caleb blinked at her, then looked back to Aldarn who may have finally come to terms with himself.

"Okay, you ride back with him. You can go slow," he told her. She nodded worriedly, but was determined. "Aldarn, I'm going to the cut. I'll rally everyone and bring them back to town. You take Miss…"

"Taranee Cook," she told them, "and this is Blunk." The passling looked shell shocked, trembling like a fallen, ugly leaf.

"Miss Cook, and leave her on the outskirts, somewhere safe, then come join us if you can."

Aldarn responded with a dip of his head, perhaps still too weak to speak. Caleb turned Lady and prepared to race off in the direction of the work crew to gather reinforcements.

"Caleb," Aldarn finally said catching him before he could gallop off, "be careful."

Caleb kicked his feet into Lady's sides, and with a cloud of dust both she and Caleb were gone. That was one promise he would never make.

* * *

AN:

I told you the next chapter would be up sooner than the last! I hope to stay on a once a month (or sooner) update schedule, but I'm also hoping to stay around a 6,000 words per chapter minimum. So that you guys actually can get some characterization, and action in the chapters. I'll try to keep the balance of that from now on. Also, you might be interested to note this is the first time I have ever made it to a chapter 7 in any of my fics; and here's to the rest of it coming out as well. So see you next time on Manifesting Destiny! Thanks for reading.

-RoR.


	8. Clarity in Chaos

"Oh, what about this one?"

"It's nice Elyon."

"You aren't even looking!"

Elyon was holding up a simple velvet rosewood pink button-up dress with golden ribbons in showy bows at the breast and waist. It was beautiful, but Cornelia could barely spare it a glance.

"I told you it's nice."

Elyon frowned and tossed the dress to the side. The girl rifled through her vast wardrobe again, and this time came back clutching a peacock teal frock with intricate white lace overlay over the neck and shoulders and white lace cuffs. A butter yellow ribbon hung around the waist area, acting as a belt.

"Better?" she asked.

Cornelia loved dress up, it was her and Elyon's favorite thing to do. Today, however, her heart was simply not in it. She told herself it was because of the storms last night, yes, that was it. The pesky thunder had kept her up all night and ruined her beauty sleep. The train cabin didn't prevent sound as well as the thick walls of their manor.

"What's wrong?" Elyon finally said, her voice sharp with annoyance and yet still gentle and still concerned; a quality Cornelia had only found in Elyon.

"Nothing. I'm fine." she told her.

Her sister-in-law set down the heavy dress, and came to sit down with her on the divan. Elyon's grey eyes were filled with worry.

"You look really pale, Cornelia. Have you eaten this morning?"

Cornelia shook her head. She'd slept late and missed the main breakfast and the biscuits and cold cuts that had been set out for her later held no appeal.

"Are...are you _sick?"_ Elyon asked, her voice lowered conspiratorially, and a sudden flash of hope ran through her eyes.

Cornelia felt like crying, but she didn't dare; not even in front of Elyon.

"No, Elyon," she told her firmly, but that didn't stop her heart from clutching painfully in her chest. Her eyes were watering now, and she had no choice but to look away.

When the two had been girls their favorite activities consisted of sitting on her plush rugs curled up by the fireplace in her room. The pair had spun the tales of their futures; their handsome husbands, beautiful doe eyed children, and most importantly their magnificent, extravagant weddings. They had read books about the old days, when knights and magic had ruled their land, and oh, how much Cornelia had wanted to be a princess! She loved the stories of brave heroes fighting for their fair damsels, and epic romances where the ladies were swept off their dainty slippered feet.

It was strange how things worked out sometimes. Elyon's brother hadn't been much of a topic of conversation amongst them until she was well into her womanhood. He'd gone to Sevit to get his classical college education (as many young gentlemen did) but stayed to attend business school (something of a faux pas, as everyone knew the Meridian University was best school for _that),_ and had even resided in the country for a few years after completion of his schooling. When he'd finally returned, Cornelia had the pleasure of meeting him when she and Elyon were breaking from University themselves.

He hadn't been what she'd expected. He was charming in a way Cornelia had never found charming before. He was a slighter man, not particularly broad of the shoulder nor brawny but still somehow handsome to her. He was well read, well spoken and very intelligent. He never missed any opportunity to speak to her, and ask her opinions on things, though she was often out of depth on the topics of conversation, but it made her feel good. So, when Phobos had asked for her hand in marriage, she was surprised but happy to accept. He was older, but not scandalously so. He may not have been her strong, gallant knight, but he was her handsome, charismatic prince. Or so she thought.

"O-oh." Elyon mumbled, wringing her hands on her dress. Elyon had been so excited when they'd been married; she'd been her maid of honour and they had gone over every detail of the extravagant affair together. They had walked the aisle together in practice, surrounded by deep red roses and Elyon had held her hand. She'd worn a baby pink dress, and cried heavy, deep, tears of joy as Cornelia said her vows. If she divulged Elyon of her marital woes, it would just break the younger girls heart, she knew.

"Look," Elyon said standing up suddenly, her voice layered with a false happiness. "We don't have to talk about that. Let's talk about...um, oh! Mister Hansen and his noble quest to find the missing maiden!"

It seemed Elyon hadn't given up her hero stories yet, but Cornelia didn't want to talk about Caleb either. Her heart gave a painful lurch at the name alone. Caleb. She felt so stupid, how many men had gazed at her so over the years? What was one more?

She wondered what Caleb meant. Phobos meant 'fear', in an old tongue; Elyon was 'most high' and Cornelia 'strong willed'. That had seemed appropriate, once.

"What's that noise?" asked Elyon suddenly, standing up from her seat next to Cornelia.

She paused and tilted her head, listening for whatever Elyon had heard. The fireplace cracked amiably, and she could hear the distant _click click_ of the telegraph machine, but little else.

"What noise?" she asked finally. Elyon pouted, and cocked her head as well.

"I guess it was nothing," she said. Elyon signed wistfully, purposely, and grasped Cornelia's hands tightly, who was taken aback slightly by the gesture.

"You know, that I want you to be happy...no matter what, right?"

Cornelia gave her a smile back, but pulled her hands away. She always felt so pathetic during these, albeit rare, conversations. She was the one who comforted Elyon, not the other way around. How could she support her sister if she wasn't strong enough to pull herself together?

"I am happy, Ellie. I just...miss home is all. I miss the manor, this place is just...so...so…"

"It's not so bad!" Elyon told her. Cornelia held back a frown. Haven was undoubtedly the worst place she'd ever been in her whole life. The town was filthy, the people were disgusting drunks, and the mud. Dear lord, the mud was everywhere. She missed the parties in the capital, the people, it was easier to pretend there.

Caleb Hansen wasn't there either.

A reality of her life was men gazing at her with something akin to lust. She ignored them outwardly, but inside, where she could admit to herself just how lonely she truly was, she reveled in it. It was good to think, that it wasn't her fault, that men still found her attractive. Caleb was no exception to this, not really. It was just...she'd never met a man like him before. Her life was balls, gold and glitter. Caleb was dirt, mud and blood too she supposed. The thought repulsed her, even as it excited her all the same. Her stomach rolled as she wondered if she would even care, if he wasn't so damn handsome. Was she so shallow?

 _What has my life come to?_

She had never seriously considered what it would even be like to cheat on her husband. Ladies didn't do that! _She_ didn't do that.

 _But why?_

How many men disgraced their their women (and themselves!) back in the capital by spurring their wife and taking another lover on the side. Or, even worse, setting their wife aside for another woman! And if she left Phobos? Surely another man would take her. People would understand if she explained; that there was no love between them, surely?

But the rumors would destroy them both if she did that. But...if she was with Caleb, far far away from the capital...would it even matter to her?

No. No. _No._

She couldn't do that; not even to Phobos. Though, often she wondered if he would be so kind if another woman ever caught his eye? _No_ , Cornelia thought even as she realized just how self centered her line of thought was, _if I can't catch his gaze I doubt any women can._

Phobos just cared too much about his damn railroad, his legacy. What legacy could he have though, without any children to carry those laurels? Maybe...that was it. Maybe when the rail was finally done, Phobos would turn his attention back to her and they could have the perfect marriage and their perfect blonde haired babies.

Unfortunately, the rational part of Cornelia's brain was not so easily diluted by fairytales as it had been as a child. _He will never love you; and you will never love him._

Could she live like that? She had for three years now, would the rest of her life be as hard as that?

"Cornelia?"

Elyon's voice cut through her thoughts and she looked up for the other woman. Elyon was pressed up against the window, her shoulders tight. Cornelia felt her stomach ache and twist again, even as her own breath caught in her tight throat.

"I think something is wrong."

* * *

Irma Lair loved the days after it rained. Sure, the ground was muddy and sloppy and she would slip and slide across camp as she walked; but that was all part of the fun. The way the land smelled after a good rain, the dewdrops glimmering in the grass like diamonds; oh, she just loved it.

Today, however, she had bigger plans than sitting out in the sun.

"Please Miranda, you have to help me. _Please!"_

Miranda scoffed, and continued washing out her favorite dress. "Absolutely not Irma, _you_ can do that."

"Ple-"

"No!"

Irma pouted. Miranda wasn't looking though. She stamped her feet in the mud, childlike she knew, but she still didn't care.

"I just need a distraction; something, _anything._ "

"I said no Irma. If you get caught in there and I was the one playing her, I'll go down same as you. Probably even worse since I'm not from Meridian."

She was right, Irma knew; but Irma also knew that if they didn't do anything more girls would get hurt. _I_ _ **can't**_ _let that happen, not again!_ Guilt had gnawed heavily at her for the last week, it wouldn't be long until it ate a hole right through her.

"Fine, I'll go search her tent by myself," she spat, her blood pressure rising till she felt it pounding in her head. Though she knew she was more angry at the situation than her friend in truth. She didn't want Miranda hurt either, so maybe it _was_ better to do it on her own.

"Irma!" Miranda called, but Irma had already marched off. The mud clung to the hem of Irma's old faded blue gown but she paid it no mind. Her mind was racing, thinking of an excuse to get into Sondra's tent or how to sneak past her. Maybe she would get lucky and the other woman wouldn't even be in.

Irma had spent the last few nights trying to think of a plan to expose her boss' misdealings. Aldarn, her new friend, had gone with Mister Hansen to find some lost girl. She found that to be incredibly brave, like something her lawman father would have done. It made her proud to think of both of them and so she would have to be just as brave to help her own girls. She knew most of them didn't enjoy their job, that they had no choice and had simply fallen on hard times and never gotten up. That made her all the more protective of them. She _could_ help them.

Haven was quiet, as it usually was during the work hours. A few men ambled about still too drunk to work from the night before and the craftsmen who always stayed in town. Andrew Hornby the baker who would always bring Irma fresh rolls when he came for a turn, waved at her as she past and she could see Raythor lambasting a particularly rowdy drunk in the town center. Irma giggled as both men fell in the dense mud as Raythor slipped.

Madame Sondra's tent was away from the tent city that her girls worked in, on the edge of the makeshift town itself, near a rare patch of bright green grass. Irma thought it was almost peaceful here, on the edge of the town watching everything that went by without actually being a part of it. It reminded her of her old balcony at her childhood home.

"Miss Sondra?" she called, her chest tight with fear yes, but also excitement. Only silence greeted her. Surely it couldn't be that easy.

"Sondra?" she yelled again, but still nothing. She glanced around. No one was around in this area of Haven. She worried the insides of her lips; could she really just walk right in?

A slight quiver ran through her outstretched hand as she pulled the light canvas door aside. Sondra's tent was fairly plain on the inside, more so than Irma had imagined anyway. There was a desk, a heating stove and bed with lackluster yellow and white linens. Irma pouted her lips, ashamed of herself for her stupidity. Why would anyone hide important information in an area anyone could sneak into? She glanced back outside; still nothing. She would check the desk anyway, just to be sure.

It was old and oak, stained a robust cherry with small circular patterns etched in front of the smaller drawers. She pulled the little iron handles gently and they slid open easily. Inside, to her disappointment, but not surprise, was the usual odd assortment of junk that normally sat in the bottom of desk drawers. Ink, pens, paper, clips; boring.

She opened another drawer, inside were two letters stamped with vaguely familiar postmarks. Hesitantly she picked one up, it was thick, heavy paper with a twisted serpentine stamp that she thought may have been from Sevit. Miranda still sent letters from time to time.

" _Lord Dorian Hesh?"_ she'd never heard of that name before. She might have to ask Miranda.

She opened the letter and glanced over the contents. It wasn't very interesting to her disappointment. The man was simply asking where the major hubs of the railroad were planned to be. Irma wondered why he didn't just ask the main office, it wasn't a secret after all. The next one proved better. It was also from someone she'd never heard of, but the stamp she recognized as the golden sunbeams of the capitols sigil.

" _Dear Ms. Jones,_

 _Thank you for your previous letter, the information has proven most useful to my cause. It is a shame that a woman of your particular talents has been so wasted within Escanor Rail. Once my company has successfully acquired the assets of Escanor Rail I will be most excited to offer you a far better position within my own company. Until then, I will need more information regarding the vault of Mr. Escanor. Or more precisely the company vault. Who has access aside from Mr. Escanor if anyone? Is the vault with him? Anything and everything will be of use. Perhaps some of your 'little darlings' can be of assistance in this matter?_

 _Your most appreciative future employer,_

 _Nerissa Crossnic."_

"Sondra's spying on Mr. Escanor?" she gasped out loud. She didn't know who this Nerissa was, or what the letter meant for her before she heard the sound of the tent flaps opening up. Irma clutched the letter fiercely to her chest, and whirled around to face the newcomer.

It was not her boss, as she had feared, but a man she'd never seen before. He was a plain faced man clad in riding leathers, and twisted a set of mismatched lips as he regarded her.

"Sorry, little dove. But you shouldn't be here," his voice was high and yet rough and Irma felt her hair stand on end as he spoke to her.

Irma didn't know what that meant either, except that it meant danger. Her eyes darted to anything she could to protect herself. _Anything, anything, anything!_

The tent was as bare as it had been when she'd entered. Panic should have been filling her veins, but instead Irma found only steely resolve, even as she searched through the panic. The man leveled a old pistol at her face, and she felt her eye twitch.

In an act that would have made her father proud, or given him a massive heart-attack, Irma charged the man before he had a chance to pull the trigger. She bowled herself into his legs, and he toppled over with a yelp. There was a flash, and then Irma had to hold her ears in pain as the sound of gunfire echoed and rolled sharply in her head. The pistol fell beside them harmlessly, save the two pairs of hands desperately reaching for it.

Irma reached it first. She wasn't sure what had overtook her, but the blood pumping furiously in head and the terrible ringing in her ears seemed to force her hands to move faster even though she felt like thick, black, tar was clinging to the rest of her. Next, she was pushing herself up, the pistol held out in front of her _and…_

The man's head exploded.

Irma felt her stomach turn, as she gazed at the large chunks of gore splattered before her. The pistol remained unchanged in her hands.

"Come on girl!"

Hands grasped gently at her shoulder, and Irma found herself being pulled away from the tent. Raythor, his favorite shotgun smoking in one hand, led her away and into the chaos of the open camp.

People dashed around Haven frantically, some fleeing before others, others meeting the invaders face on with guns or shovels, or whatever else was laying around camp to use as a makeshift weapon. She recognized some of them, fighting and yelling, and a few others laying lifeless in the mud.

"What's happening?" She yelled at Raythor. His grip on her shoulder was firm as he pushed her across the muddy yard.

"Go to the office, barricade yourself and whoever else you can in there. Go on!"

The man gave her an uncharastic shove towards the building he spoke of; the mire of the yard clung desperately to her boots and it took everything she had to stay upright, her pistol tumbling clumsily from her hands. White-hot fear thrummed in her head, her ears still ringing, as she raced to the central office. She'd just made it onto the porch, when some forgotten instinct whispered amongst the throbbing chaos in her ears.

Many of her friends were already relatively safe in the structure, she spied Miranda foremost among them, practically having to drag another sobbing woman in by her hair. She turned back to look at the turmoil that Haven had descended into. Those able were attempting to hold off...whoever it was that attacked them, but there just wasn't enough of them, even for the meager force that they faced. Before she could continue to despair however, a scream from the side of the building drew her attention. Just now noticing she'd lost her gun, she grabbed one of the shovels from the porch while yelling at herself for being so careless to lose it in the first place.

Irma turned the corner of the building, raising her shovel menacingly as she could as she sought the source of the screams. A man, one of the office workers, the one with the nasally voice and big glasses, was being dragged through the mud by another man, who was yelling at him, "Just give me the maps!"

"I don't have them!" he shrieked, kicking uselessly at nothing in particular.

The two were facing the opposite direction from her, and Irma with another flash of madness, raced towards them and swung her shovel against the men's head with all the force she could muster. With a clang, and thump that sounded very much like a melon exploding, the man toppled over and slopped into the mud.

Irma and the ginger-haired office manager blinked at each other, stunned. Irma because she didn't think that would have actually worked, and Martin because he was amazed that someone had actually come to help him. Irma was the first to recover her wits however, yanking Martin up by his ink stained cavat.

"Well, come on!" Irma yelled, dragging the dumb-struck man along, as he stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. It was only once she and and Martin were safe in the office, as she patted her pockets that Irma realized, in the fray, she'd lost Sondra's letter.

* * *

Cornelia was frenzied, as she shifted through the mass of papers upon Phobos' desk, hoping against hope that what she was looking for would actually still be there. Her husband was out at the cut, _supervising_ , and the likelihood that he'd brought it with him was very high, she knew.

Elyon was already hiding in the closet as Cornelia had bade her to do, crying softly as she hugged her knees to her chest, understandably terrified. The two could hear the deep, heated voices of men as they crashed into their locked, barricaded door. Cornelia was not such a fool as to think the ornate doors would hold much longer.

She wasn't quite sure what had come over her, but as those wicked men hammered against her sanctuary, and Elyon sobbed pitifully in the background, the former debutant who had indeed never so much as even _looked_ at a truly dangerous situation, found it was _not_ fear coursing through her veins. It was ice-cold rage.

All she could think of was how Elyon needed her, and what would happen to her if Cornelia failed them. Oh, she just had to find it! She tore open drawer after drawer, paper and ink and bonds and letters spilling out unto the floors as she tossed them aside. She growled some very unlady-like words as she ripped one drawer clean out of the desk. Oh! And there it was, salvation!

Cornelia gripped the little pistol in her surprisingly steady hands, even though she could feel the blood pumping madly through her veins. She looked back at Elyon and warned her, "don't move!"

The pistol had two shots; she hoped that would be enough. The blonde faced the door, and contemplated a warning shot, but decided not to waste the precious bits of lead. With a final heavy, a dreadful crack, the door yielded the last of its protections and swung open. Elyon screamed behind her, as Cornelia gun held aloft, stepped in front of her. Two people poked their heads into the cabin, a man with gnarled lips and a plain faced woman. The woman narrowed her eyes at them, as she stepped into the train.

"There's nothing but two fancy little ladies in here! Oi, girl! You got any maps or plans in here?"

They probably did in fact, but Cornelia shook her head in the negative. The other woman eyed her cautiously, her grey eyes darting between the weapon in her hand and her own steely eyes.

"Come on then, I don't think this one is fooling."

The man stepped into the train now, sneering at Cornelia. "You gonna believe this one? Nah, I'm gonna take my chances. Look at this place, who knows what's here, aside these two lovely ladies of course."

Cornelia didn't like the lecherousness of his tone as he appraised her with pale colored eyes, but neither did his fellow it seemed.

"Eh, now none of that, we're just here for papers-"

The man pushed the woman aside and stood in front of Cornelia, leering at her. She _was_ afraid now, her nerves tingling inside her in such a way she hadn't felt since, ironically, her wedding day.

"Don't come any closer," she warned him.

Her voice was rigid as her stance, as she pulled the lever back on the gun. The man stepped forward, intent and even though the girl was behind her all Cornelia could see was Elyon cowering in the closet, her face tear-stained. She could feel her arm start to seize up, the gun trembling in her too firm grasp. She looked at the man again, who had stepped closer still, his evil smile wide. She shut her eyes, and pulled the trigger.

The blast rang through her ears, but somehow she barely heard it. All she could hear was the man yelling, cursing, and then collapsing to the floor, silent.

Cornelia opened her eyes. The man's chest was red, too red, the color hurt her vision. _What did I do-_ The woman started moving now and panicked, Cornelia pointed the gun at her. The woman squeaked, and held her hands up, trembling.

"Ah! E-easy love, I didn't want to hurt you in the first pla-"

"Go! Get out!" Cornelia snapped, the words forming in her mouth unbidden. The other woman shook her head vehemently and promptly fled back out the open door. Cornelia stood, her body still fixed in place, the gun pointing into empty air. The air felt...dense around her, and all at once she was suffocating as her gaze wandered back to the man lying dead on the floor. She didn't know what she _should_ be feeling, but this horrible cold, emptiness wasn't it, she thought.

"Cornelia!" Elyon cried, leaping up from the closet and wrapping her arms about her. Even as Elyon's warmth enveloped her, she still hadn't moved. It wasn't until her sister-in-law finally pushed her arms down that she finally dared to look away from the man. Elyon's green-grey eyes were filled with tears, as she buried herself into Cornelia, and all she could murmur was…

"You saved us."

* * *

By the time Caleb and the rest of the men had arrived in Haven, most of the fighting was done. It had been a small force, and the town had put up a better fight than expected. He and Lady had chased a few men down as they fled from the camp, but he soon circled back to inspect the damage.

Many of the tents had been torn down, or burned, or ransacked, and many people lay unmoving on the ground, trails of red surrounding them. He growled, and spurred Lady onwards as he made his way to the office. Most of the people still alive had taken refuge inside, and Caleb found himself thankful that Haven had at least _one_ wooden building. As he moved closer, he spied Martin sitting on the edge of the porch, holding a rag to his head.

"Martin!" he called, as the office man looked up, his broken glasses sliding off his face. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Ahh, group of Kahedrin attacked, looking for maps and surveys," his voice sounded as shaken as he looked.

"Why?"

"I assume to stop progress, I don't know, I..uh."

Caleb stopped him, and told him to rest. Martin slumped against the wall of the office miserably, trying to piece his glasses back together. Finally, he gathered the courage to wander over where Cornelia's cabin was. Relief flooded his system when he found her sitting on the steel steps of the train cabin. He moved closer, to speak to her, but Phobos and Elyon had her surrounded, trying, and failing to gather her attention. Consoling himself that he would speak to her at a later date, the final part of his survey brought him back to the top of the hill, as he waited for Aldarn and Taranee to arrive.

A familiar, heavy feeling clung to him, as he watched them cross the plains. He thought back to the Kahedrin man, minding his own business, and shot mercilessly in the night. He shook his head, as Lady agitated under him and he was forced to attempt to soothe her. Yet, even as his mind tried to turn to the tasks ahead, Caleb was left wondering…

 _Was this my fault?_

* * *

 _AN:_

Haha, yeah, so much for that quick update time. Right, well, whatever!

Next chapter we will deal with the aftermath of the attack, from Cornelia's shell-shock to Caleb's nagging (and rightful) feelings of guilt. Also a proper introduction to Taranee and her place in this world and the lovely Miss Vandom's first appearance. It will be quite a long chapter, so, unfortunately no guarantees on a time frame. As always thank you for reading, and enjoy! -RoR


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